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Radio Boys on the Mexican Border

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<h2>CHAPTER XXXI</h2> <h3>CALM AFTER THE STORM  </h3> Meanwhile, as Jack had foreseen, Mr. Temple waited at the radio plant at the Hampton ranch with ill-concealed impatience. Dave Morningstar, hat pulled down over his eyes, sat in a chair tilted back against the wall, watching him from beneath the brim. The only signs of life about the ex-cowboy turned mechanic were the occasional movements of the eyes, and the occasional refilling of his pipe, from which lazy streamers of smoke now and again floated upward. All the evening these two had held watch. And, as hour after hour passed, with no word from the boys, Mr. Temple's anxiety rose to a fever. He condemned himself for ever having given his consent to his son and Jack starting upon so foolhardy an expedition as that of attempting to rescue Jack's father from the rebel headquarters and fly to safety with him in Bob's airplane. Surely, he thought, the boys long since would have reached the ranch and made their departure. They had promised to call him by radio from the airplane the moment they started on their return flight. From their failure to do so he argued the worst. Their expedition must have come to grief, probably even now they were prisoners, perhaps— But he shuddered to think of the alternative. He would not let himself consider that possibility. In desperation he turned to Dave Morningstar. "Isn't there something we can do?" he asked imploringly. The old ex-cowboy took his pipe from his mouth, spat deliberately to one side, then brought the forelegs of his chair to the floor. "Le's see," he said. "I been a'most asleep. Le's see. What say to calling the cave?" Mr. Temple eagerly grasped at the proposal. "Yes, certainly," he said. "Why haven't I thought of that before? Perhaps Frank has heard something." He did not pause to consider that the party at the cave in all likelihood was little better prepared than he with information. The mere idea of doing something, of taking some action that would break up this horrible spell of waiting, appealed to him in his excited state. But after hearing from Frank an account not only of the fight the latter had had to recover the cave, after once having been dispossessed, but also of the attempt to warn the Calomares ranch ahead of the boys' coming which Morales had made, he began to wish he never had called Frank. "Think of it," he said to Dave Morningstar, after explaining the situation. "In all likelihood all that clash of conversation in the air put them on guard at the Calomares ranch. They were led to suspect all was not well. And then when the boys landed they were captured. That can be the only reason for our failure to hear from Bob and Jack." Dave attempted sympathetic protest, but Mr. Temple shook his head and groaned. "No, something has happened to them," he said. "Oh, I was a fool to let them go. I'll never forgive myself. If only they were not injured. If only they were merely made prisoner, I——" "Hey," said Dave, "look at that signal bulb. Somebody's calling us." "It's only Frank, calling back, I suppose," groaned Mr. Temple. But Dave took up a headpiece and began adjusting the tuner knob. In a moment he tapped Mr. Temple on the bowed shoulder. "Listen here," he said, and clapped the headpiece over Mr. Temple's ears. Similar anxieties to those ruling at the Hampton radio station had been in control at the cave during the evening hours. Frank had been frightfully anxious as the hours wore on with no word from the boys. The flight to the ranch was a short one of only fifty miles. Surely, if they had been successful, Jack and Bob long ere this would have called him by radio in accordance with their agreement. The poor boy stamped up and down the cave in such a fret that Tom Bodine and Roy Stone made repeated efforts to calm him, but without success. They began seriously to fear the effect of this anxiety upon his system, already fevered by the several hard fights through which he had gone in the last thirty-six hours. Mr. Temple's call had done nothing to assuage Frank's anxiety. If anything it had increased it. As he put aside the headpiece, he looked so woebegone that Tom Bodine went up to him and laid an arm over his shoulder. "Now, look here, kid," he began. But before he could proceed, Frank's glance caught the light flashing in the signal bulb, and he leaped to the headpiece and microphone with a glad cry. <hr /> "Father, we are all right. Mr. Hampton is freed." At the cave in the mountains of Old Mexico and at the Hampton ranch across the border in American territory, these welcome words uttered in Bob's well-known voice were received with delight. Across mountain and desert sped the message by radio. Modern science making possible the utilization of the forces of the air brought this quick relief to an anxiety that otherwise would have continued for hours at the least, until Bob and Jack could have flown back to the ranch. But neither Mr. Temple nor Frank took that thought into consideration. To them radio telephony was an accepted fact, part of their daily equipment for carrying on life. What filled their minds to the exclusion of all else was, at first, a sense of gratitude and thankfulness for the lucky outcome of the adventurous mission of the two boys, and, in the second place, a desire to learn the details. "Now don't interrupt, Frank," said Bob. "Just listen while I talk to father, and you can hear all about it." Under this admonition Frank ceased the flood of eager questions he had loosed and confined himself to listening. As the story of the remarkable series of adventures undergone by Jack and Bob at the Calomares ranch poured through the air, however, Frank, at times, could not curb his quick tongue, and many an exclamation he let slip. His hand, placed across the mouth of the microphone, however, acted to prevent these exclamations from interrupting the flow of Bob's explanation. When Bob had finished his account, Jack took a turn. And at the recital of his adventures, Frank began to laugh. Removing his hand from the microphone, he interrupted his chum with the question: "Now, who's the lady-killer?" Jack, who at the moment, was telling of the part played by Senorita Rafaela, blushed violently and grew indignant. Bob, standing near, looked at him speculatively. Was old Jack hard hit by that little Spanish beauty? Ordinarily, Jack would have answered Frank's joking in kind. But to grow indignant! Bob feared his chum was smitten. For a long time the three-cornered conversation was carried on through the air, Mr. Temple and Frank both being eager to hear every detail and compelling Jack and Bob to repeat their stories several times. Finally, drawn by the long absence of the boys, Mr. Hampton appeared at the radio station accompanied by Don Fernandez himself, and he and Mr. Temple held a brief conversation. At length it was decided that the next day Mr. Hampton, with Bob and Jack, would fly back to the Hampton ranch in New Mexico. Frank, Tom and Roy Stone were to ride for the border at the same time, after another night's sleep at the cave. Morales and Von Arnheim, to whom Don Fernandez spoke personally, were apprised of the turn of affairs, and were told to stay at the cave, which was plentifully provisioned, until a relief party from headquarters could reach them with mounts. Then "good nights" were said, and at their three different points our respective characters retired for the night, well pleased with the outcome of their adventures.     <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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