CHAPTER X

CONVINCING A SKEPTIC

It was a simple matter for the boys to wind the loop aerial, for they had become expert in the manipulation of wire, tape, and the numerous other accessories that go with the art of wireless telephony. After the aerial was completed they unpacked their receiving set and quickly connected it up. They worked skillfully and efficiently, and before the lunch bell rang at noon they were ready to receive signals.

But even their enthusiasm was not proof against the seductive summons of the genial looking old darky who rang the bell, and they washed hastily and started for the dining room at a pace that would have reflected credit on the hungriest boarder who ever lived.

"Gang way, Bob!" panted Jimmy, as they clattered down the last flight of stairs and dashed for the entrance to the hotel. "I'm hungry, and, therefore, desperate. Get out of the way before I trip over you!"

"Good night!" shouted Bob. "You're getting too fresh to live, Jimmy," and he picked up a handful of snow and dropped it carefully and with precision down Jimmy's fat neck.

"Ugh!" exclaimed that corpulent youth, stopping short in his wild rush and digging snow from under his collar. "I'll get even with you for that, Bob, you old hobo. Just you wait!"

"Can't wait a second," grinned Bob. "I don't want to be late and miss all the good things, even if you do."

"Come on, Doughnuts, don't stand there all day picking snow off you," entreated Herb. "I can't see where there's any fun in that."

Jimmy reached down, packed a handful of snow, and sent it flying after the others. They were close to the door, however, and ducked in unscathed, while the snowball spread out in a big patch against the door casing.

Jimmy did not allow himself to be delayed very long at any time when there was food in prospect, however, and his friends had hardly seated themselves at the table when he came in, his collar badly dampened, but his appetite in prime condition. He shook his fist surreptitiously at the others, but he was incapable of staying angry long, and was soon his usual jolly and happy-go-lucky self.

The snowstorm had stopped during the night, the weather had grown warmer, and a brilliant sun now shone down on a dazzlingly white world. The snow had come ahead of time, as all the "regulars" at the Mountain Rest Hotel united in asserting, and now it gave every indication of disappearing as fast as it had come.

The boys wanted to get back to their radio set after dinner, but the snow looked so inviting that they could not resist the temptation to have a snow fight. Some of the men, seeing them hard at it, cast dignity to the winds and joined them, until quite a miniature battle was raging. Ammunition was plentiful, and there was a good deal of shouting and laughter before both sides became tired and agreed to call it a draw.

The radio boys were pretty damp with snow water, and their hands were stiff with cold, but trifling discomforts such as these did not bother them much. They had had a good time, and they knew that there is seldom any fun that does not have its own drawbacks. They went to their rooms, changed the wettest of their clothing for dry articles, and were soon ready to test their set.

They were just making a final inspection of their connections when Mr. Layton entered the room, accompanied by two other gentlemen.

Mr. Layton introduced the two latter as the owners of the store he was thinking of purchasing.

"Mr. Blackford and Mr. Robins are rather skeptical about radio," explained Mr. Layton, when the introductions had been duly accomplished. "I happened to mention it this morning, and as they both seemed to think I was exaggerating its possibilities, I asked them here to see and hear for themselves."

"It's no trouble to show goods," said Bob, grinning. "We haven't tested for signals yet, but the set is all hooked up, and I guess all we'll have to do is tune up and get about anything you want."

"You seem pretty confident," remarked one of the two strangers, Mr. Robins. "My opinion is, that this radio stuff is mostly bunk. A friend of mine bought a set just a little while ago, and he couldn't hear a thing with it. Paid fifteen dollars for it, too."

"I shouldn't imagine he could," said Bob, drily. "Mountain Pass must be at least a hundred miles from the nearest broadcasting station, and that set you speak of could never be expected to catch anything more than twenty-five miles away, at the most."

"Well, I'll bet dollars to doughnuts you can't hear anything with that outfit you've got there, either," broke in the other of the two strangers.

"You'd lose your money, Blackford," said Bob's father. "Go ahead and convince these doubting Thomases, Bob."

Bob adjusted a headset over his ears and switched on the current through the vacuum bulb filament. Then he manipulated the voltage of the "B," or high voltage, dry battery, and also varied the current flowing through the filament by means of a rheostat connected in series with it. Almost immediately he caught a far-away sound of music, and by manipulation of the variometer and condenser knobs gradually increased the strength of the sounds.

Meantime Mr. Layton's two acquaintances had watched proceedings with open skepticism, and often glanced knowingly at each other. But suddenly, as Bob twisted the knob of the variable condenser, the music became so loud that all in the room could hear it, even though they had no receivers over their ears.

"If either of you two gentlemen will put these receivers on, he'll be convinced that radio is no fake," said Bob quietly, at the same time removing his headset and holding it out.

After a moment's hesitation Mr. Robins donned the receivers, and a startled look came over his face, replacing the incredulous expression it had worn heretofore.

"Let's hook up another set of phones, Bob, and let Mr. Blackford listen at the same time," suggested Joe.

This was done, and soon both skeptics were listening to their first radio concert. Mr. Layton regarded them with an amused smile. Mr. Robins extended his hand curiously toward the condenser knob, and immediately the music died away. He pulled his hand hastily away, and the sounds resumed their former volume.

"Don't be frightened," laughed Mr. Layton. "It won't bite you."

"But what made it fade away in that fashion?" asked Mr. Robins.

"Don't ask me," said Bob's father. "I'm not up on radio the way the boys are. I enjoy it, without knowing much of the _modus operandi_."

"That was caused by what is known as 'body capacity,'" explained Bob. "Every human being is more or less of a natural condenser, and when you get near the regular condenser in that set, it puts more capacity into the circuit, and interferes with its balance."

The other nodded, although in reality he understood very little of even this simple explanation. He was too much absorbed in listening to what was going on in the phones.

As he listened, he heard the latest stock market quotations given out, among them being the last minute prices of some shares he happened to be interested in. He slapped his knee enthusiastically, and when the last quotations had been given, he snatched off the headset and leaped to his feet.

"I'm converted!" he fairly shouted. "I'll buy this outfit right as it stands for almost any price you fellows want to put on it. What will you sell it for?"

The boys were taken aback by this unexpected offer, and all looked at Bob expectantly.

"Why, we hadn't even thought of selling the set," he said slowly. "We wouldn't sell it right now, at any price, I think. But when we leave here to go back home, I suppose we might let you have it. How about it, fellows?"

After some argument they agreed to this, but Mr. Robins was so determined to have the set that he would not be put off.

"Now look here," he said. "I'm a business man, and I'll make you a business proposition. I'll buy that outfit right now, before I leave this room, at your own figure. But you fellows can keep it here and have the use of it just the same as you have now, only it will be understood that I'll have the privilege of coming over here once a day in time to hear those market reports. At the same time you can teach me something about operating the thing. How does that strike you?" and he threw himself back in his chair and waited for his answer.

"We'll have to talk over that offer for a little while," said Bob. "Give us ten minutes or so, and we'll give you an answer."

"That's all right," replied Mr. Robins. "While I'm waiting I'll just put on those ear pieces again and see what's doing."

The radio boys left the room and held an excited conference downstairs. After some discussion they agreed to sell their set, as long as they could have the use of it during their stay at the resort, but the matter of price proved to be a knotty problem. Bob produced pencil and paper, and they figured the actual cost of the set to themselves, and then what the same set would have cost if bought ready made in a retail store.

"The actual material in that set didn't cost us much over forty dollars, but we put a whole lot of time and experience into it," said Bob, "It would cost him close to a hundred to get as good a one in a store."

"It's a mighty good set, too," said Joe, a note of regret in his voice. "We might make another as near like it as possible, and not get nearly as good results."

"Oh, don't worry. We're some radio builders by this time," Herb reminded him. "Besides, that isn't the only set we've got."

"Let's ask him eighty dollars," ventured Jimmy. "He'll be getting it cheaper then than he could buy it retail, and we'll be picking up a nice piece of change."

"I think that ought to be about the right figure," agreed Bob. "Does that suit this board of directors? Eighty hard, round iron men?"

The others grinned assent, and they returned to the room where the older men were still seated about the radio set.

"Well, what's the verdict?" inquired Mr. Robins, glancing keenly from one to the other.

"We've decided to sell," replied Bob. "The price will be eighty dollars."

Without a word Mr. Robins produced a roll of greenbacks, and counted off the specified amount in crisp bills.

"You'll want a receipt, won't you, Robins?" inquired Mr. Layton.

"Not necessary," replied the other. "I've got a hunch that your son and his friends are on the level and won't try to cheat an old fellow like me. I'll have to be going now, but I'll be around about the same time tomorrow morning to get the stock quotations. Coming, Blackford?"