The Ocean Wireless Boys on War Swept Seas

  "Yes, and I'm proud of it!"

  "Why should you be proud of something you could not help?"

  "I don't understand you," replied Jack, passing his hand over his browas if to clear away the ever increasing drowsiness.

  "You don't understand me?"

  Jack shook his head.

  "Answer me!"

  Jack opened his mouth to speak, his lips moved, but he could utter nosound. He stood still, staring stupidly at the man in front of him. Histhoughts were befuddled. What did he--the man in the gray mask--want?

  "I wish those eyes wouldn't glare at me so," Jack mumbled to himself. "Ididn't do anything to them."

  But the eyes behind the gray mask became larger, rounder, morecompelling. Jack knew instinctively that they meant him harm. What powerthey held! Something within him fought to arouse him. He tried to moveand could not. Larger, ever larger those eyes seemed to grow! Thefeatures of the man were lost; in fact, those eyes seemed to belong tono one; they seemed to have life and power, dreadful power, of theirown.

  Jack shrieked with terror!

  Was he lost?

  CHAPTER XXXIX.

  SHATTERING THE SHACKLES.

  Did it ever occur to you that nature plays many pranks? From the manylearned books and men--and from daily events--we are lead to assume thatnature is grim, relentless. On the whole, this assumption is true. Butone of the things that has made nature a harder problem for man to solveis that there are the most unexpected exceptions to the most carefullyproved rules. Sometimes these exceptions take place with things andsometimes with persons.

  Nature had played a prank with Jack.

  When he came to his senses he found de Garros solicitously bending overhim, his broken English running riot in his native French.

  "What's up?" questioned bewildered Jack.

  De Garros shrugged his shoulders.

  "I--er--_phew_! Zee--la--_compron_--eh---- I understand not! You makezee big cry, I in rush--excited much--_phew_!"

  Jack sat up in bed.

  "Are we still in Louvain?" he demanded.

  "_We_, _we_, certainly!" de Garros hastened to assure him.

  A big sigh of relief welled from Jack.

  "De Garros," he said, "I have had the most remarkable nightmare!"

  Whereupon Jack related to de Garros, as well as he could recall thedetails, the dream that had seemed so real.

  De Garros was thrilled. Every now and then he broke into the recitalwith exclamations most expressive of the impressions they made upon him.

  "And now," Jack said in conclusion, "I think it is best for us to dress.I have never dreamed before, and I never want to dream again, if alldreams are so terribly real."

  De Garros laughingly agreed with him.

  When Jack had dressed, he began to explore the corridors of the hotel.He felt that Bill, Tom Jukes and Pottle were guests of it. Of course,the easiest way about it would have been to inquire at the office.

  As the hour was rather early he did not care to do this at once. Alittle later Jack was joined by de Garros, and together they walked intothe dining room. Even at this hour several tables were occupied.

  Almost at once the two were espied by their friends. A more amazed andglad set of chaps would have been indeed difficult to find anywhere.

  "Honest, Jack," cried Bill, tears of real joy in his eyes, "we had givenup all hope of ever seeing you again."

  "Man alive!" declared Tom Jukes, "you can't imagine how we felt, for weknew that there was no chance of getting through to save you."

  "Blues--here--everybody!" exploded Pottle. "Funeral cheerful incomparison--no eat--no food--just blues!"

  "Come, Jack," invited Bill, "and de Garros, breakfast with us and tellus about it."

  So, between mouthfuls, Jack related his experiences with Radwig's partyof Uhlans. Affectionately he placed his hand on de Garros' arm, andsoberly said:

  "I owe my life to you. If it hadn't been for you----"

  "It was sure luck, the greatest ever," declared Tom Jukes.

  "Fine stuff--fooled the enemy--shot at sunrise--others get shotinstead--up in the air--down again--all safe--at last--hurray!" criedPottle, capering about wildly.

  "I can't think it was luck," said Jack gravely. "I think there was ahigher power than that concerned in it."

  "You are right," agreed Bill.

  "Read--ee--_mon ami_, you 'ave not forget zee dream," slyly remarked deGarros.

  Jack turned scarlet. Somehow he felt that it was not very manlike tohave even bothered with nightmares.

  "What's this?" demanded Bill.

  "Come on, now," coaxed Tom; "don't hold anything back."

  "Dreams?" questioned Pottle. "Dreams? Great stuff--big inventors--andColumbus--dreamers!"

  So Jack went over that adventure again.

  This time, however, he decided to tell it in the way it actuallyhappened. The result was that when Jack led them up to the climax heheld even de Garros spellbound.

  Jack ceased to speak and looked at his friends.

  "How did you get away?" asked Bill.

  "I didn't," was the smiling reply.

  "You didn't!" came the perplexed chorus.

  De Garros was chuckling softly. He had to admire Jack's cleverness.

  "Battle--prisoner--great fight--man in gray mask--disappear--eyes biggerand bigger--what's this--fairy tale?"

  "No, Pottle," replied Jack, "it was only a dream."

  For a moment there was silence and then they all broke into peals oflaughter, laughter that seemed so strange and out of place in these daysfrought with war's devastation.

  So they had the good sense to check their merriment, especially as theysaw the eyes of many surprised men and women upon them.

  They soon left the dining room, and prepared to leave Louvain. Late thatafternoon arrangements were completed.

  Regretful good-byes were said to plucky little de Garros, whosedemonstrative eyes were wet as he clasped their hands in farewell.

  "We may nevaire meet again," he stammered, "but I nevaire forget youall."

  "Nor will we forget you!" cried Jack warmly. "You--you, if it hadn'tbeen for you----"

  "Read--ee, _mon ami_, you 'ave forget what you do for me long ago. Afair exchange. You save _my_ life."

  "You're fine," exploded Pottle. "Legion of Honor cross for you--longwar--much dead--much wounded--but you'll live!"

  A prediction, strangely enough, that came true.

  CHAPTER XL.

  OLD GLORY AGAIN.

  Before the fall of Louvain, Jack and his friends were across the borderin France. Ultimately they were lucky enough to rejoin the _St.Mark_--sent for the accommodation of refugees--at Marseilles.

  A cable was despatched to America, telling of Tom Juke's safety.

  Pottle, the young photographer, cabled his paper, asking for permissionto remain in the battle zone. This was granted.

  So the trio--Jack, Bill and Tom--said farewell to Pottle.

  "When I get back--possible--the paper will make--hurrah!--look meup--eh?"

  "We sure will, old top," promised Tom.

  The voyage across was without incident, save that, as was expected, theywere stopped by British warships.

  So, one fine morning, unannounced, Jack called upon Uncle Toby Ready.The old tar gave vent to a great cry of joy. Though Jack had often beenaway for long periods, Uncle Toby never fully knew the thrillingadventure Jack had participated in. Now there was no hiding of thetruth. The war was at hand. The Germans were sweeping everything beforethem. How had it fared with Jack? This uncertainty had worried UncleToby. He felt that he would never be able to forgive himself, hadanything happened to Jack.

  When the first greetings were over, Uncle Toby could not help but askabout his Golden Embrocation and Universal Remedy for Man and Beast.

  "Did you meet up with the King of England?" he queried.

  "No, Uncle Toby,
" laughed Jack, "I did not."

  "Be it so with the Kaiser?"

  "No, not the Kaiser, either."

  "How now--was it the Czar?"

  Jack shook his head.

  "But made a--use of 'em?"

  "Yes," replied Jack with a twinkle in his eye. "I did make----"

  At this moment there came a sharp rap on the door. Jack opened it, and amessenger, upon ascertaining who he was, handed him a telegram.

  "What now?" demanded Uncle Toby.

  Jack tore open the envelope. The inclosed sheet read:

  "Congratulations and grateful appreciation. Report immediately.

  "JACOB JUKES."

  "Yeou ain't a-goin' back to Europe!" declared Uncle Toby emphatically.

  "Don't worry, Uncle," replied Jack. "I don't think it is for that Mr.Jukes wants me."

  "Well, if he don't," replied the old captain, "give 'im a bottle of myGolden Embrocation and Universal Remedy for Man and Beast with mycompliments."

  "All right," laughed Jack as he put the bottle in his pocket, neverintending, of course, to carry out the errand.

  Jack found Mr. Jukes in earnest conversation with his son, Tom. However,the moment Jack entered, father and son arose.

  "Jack," said Mr. Jukes, extending his hand, "let me thank you."

  It was said sincerely and simply. Their handclasp was hearty and true.

  Mr. Jukes began to pace the office.

  Tom looked at Jack and winked.

  "Young man," suddenly said Mr. Jukes, sternly addressing Jack, "you arebound to succeed in life. You have the _makings_. You have yourtrade--or shall I call it profession? But operating wireless is noteverything. You can be a wireless operator all your life and your salarywill be your only means of keeping the wolf from the door. Too many ofour people have to depend on that means of support. Some day I feel itwill be different. At all events, I shall make a beginning with you. SoTom and I have decided to give you a number of shares in our Combine."

  Thereupon Mr. Jukes went on to explain the value of the shares,instructing Jack just what he should do with them. To tell the truth,Jack had never troubled himself very much with the intricacies of stockvalues.

  Finally Jack left Mr. Jukes' office feeling like a millionaire.

  "Strange," mused Jack, "that this good fortune should come to me whenthousands of others are losing their all in Europe."

  Feeling thus satisfied, Jack decided to acquaint Helen Dennis with thegood news. As he strolled down to the dock, he could not help but notethat in so far as New York was concerned, the war did not exist. Peoplewent about their business in their accustomed way. Beyond the usual setor serious expression characteristic of the average New Yorker when heis engaged in earning his dividends or salary, as the case may be indifferent instances and walks of life, the average person seemedabsolutely unconcerned of the World Tragedy that was unfolding itselfacross the sea.

  At the docks, however, there was increased activity. The demand uponAmerican ammunition and commodities had jumped by leaps and bounds.Shippers were reaping a harvest.

  The _Silver Star_, Captain Dennis' ship, was in port. Jack had littledifficulty in getting aboard. Captain Dennis was delighted to see Jack.He could spare but little time, so when Jack had told him only brieflyof his experiences, the wise tar, his eyes twinkling with mischief,said:

  "Really, Jack, don't you think Helen would be more interested in youradventures?"

  Jack blushed.

  "Never mind, lad," laughed the captain, "we all have those days, youknow."

  So Jack made his way to the captain's cabin.

  But let us say nothing more of them; rather let us ask what became ofBill Raynor?

  CHAPTER XLI.

  WAR IN TIMES OF PEACE.

  Just before Jack called upon his Uncle Toby, Bill had expressed a desireto stroll about the Great City.

  "You see," Bill said in explanation, "the sight of old New York makes meglad to be back again. They say it's a selfish place. Well, perhapsthere are towns that make you feel more at home, but once you knowManhattan's ways, you don't want to change!"

  "Have it your way," agreeably laughed Jack.

  So they parted for the time being.

  Feeling hungry, Bill decided to visit one of the select downtownrestaurants his purse seldom allowed him to patronize. Now, as thereader will remember, Bill had no need to worry over funds--at any rate,not for the immediate future.

  Bill thoroughly enjoyed his meal. He left the restaurant feeling like aprince.

  "Those prices are steep," he reflected, "but the food and service areworth it."

  Barely had he walked a block when he recognized Tom Jukes a few stridesin front of him. Bill's first impulse was to hail Tom, but somethingabout the latter made him hesitate.

  "Something seems queer," muttered Tom, puzzled. He was undecided. Shouldhe follow the millionaire's son?

  Tom Jukes seemed anxious to avoid being seen. Every now and then heglanced about him hurriedly. He kept close to the building line, his cappulled over his eyes. He turned into one of those ancient alleys down inthe financial district of New York.

  Bill Raynor came to a quick decision.

  "I'll follow him!" he muttered.

  A moment later Bill was also in the moldy alleyway. Tom swung south,then west, and south again, and finally halted before a pair ofornamental iron gates of the most antique and peculiar design.

  Bill, mystified that such places still existed in the Great Metropolis,dogged Tom's footsteps, always careful to keep well out of sight.

  He saw Tom pass through these iron gates. A moment later Bill hadfollowed Tom through, though now he had to be far more careful, forevery flagstone seemed to give up a hollow bellow.

  Tom walked up an iron staircase clinging to a decaying bulk of adirt-gray stone ramshackle building. He climbed one flight and thendisappeared from view.

  Bill, very carefully--every nerve alert--followed. A moment later hestepped into a long, dim, lofty corridor, walled with marble of agreenish tint, and smelling faintly of dry-rot.

  Picking his steps with the greatest caution, Bill felt his way forward.Somewhere in front of him he saw the shadowy form of Tom.

  Bill saw Tom pause before a door, which he opened very slowly. A faintlight came from within. A moment later Tom had disappeared from view.

  Bill crept forward.

  Should he open the door?

  "I wish Jack were here," said Bill to himself.

  Jack, it was, who had won the approval of Jacob Jukes, head of the greatshipping combine, and father of Tom, for his masterly handling of manydifficult situations.

  Under the circumstances, Bill did not flinch in his determination tolearn _what was going on behind that door_!

  Bill put his ear to the door--and at once heard a faint _tick-tick_, aswell as a muffled voice. Slowly Bill felt the door for the knob and tohis surprise he found there was none!

  "Entrance by signal only!" instantly decided Bill.

  But how was he to get in without it?

  His eyes were now more accustomed to the gloom. He looked about him,hoping to find a window or some outlet that might lead to the barredroom.

  Farther down the corridor, to his right, he saw a stairway--or whatappeared to be a stairway. He walked toward it, always bearing in mindto be extremely careful.

  He climbed up one flight without mishap. On this floor, the feeling ofdesertion and forlorn desolation grew deeper. Bill could barely suppressa shiver.

  Suddenly a rat scampered across the floor.

  "Phew!" ejaculated Bill, "this is _some_ place!"

  He noticed a thin ray of daylight a short distance from him. Bill atonce decided to discover its origin. A moment later he saw that thelight flowed from the cracks of a door.

  A brief investigation proved the door to be unlocked. As he quietlypulled the door open he saw that the room was absolutely
bare, and thatthe light came from the mud-pasted windows facing a brick wall not fivefeet from them.

  Bill tip-toed across the room, and raised one of the windows. To hissatisfaction he at once noticed the drain pipe at arm's length. A momentlater he had slid to the floor below.

  To his surprise he saw the window of that mysterious room wide open. Hecould see only part of it. There seemed many men listlessly sittingabout, though the majority kept unseeing eyes on a blackboard.

  "A blind tiger!" breathed Bill, amazed.

  Bill meant that it was a fake racing broker's place. In years gone bythere were many such dens of evil in New York, where congregated thebroken-hearted, the reckless, the unscrupulous, all of whom tempted fateon this horse or that. As a rule the proprietor controlled the destiniesof his victims, for he could "fake" any information he desired as towhat horse won or lost. Happily these dens are now more scarce thanhen's teeth. It was these dens, the graves of dupes, that were called_blind tigers_.

  "Does Tom play the ponies?" wondered Bill.

  He listened intently.

  Somewhere a ticker droned, and a husky voice announced:

  "Gas a half--five eighths; Steel six--nine hundred at a quarter--athousand--five-hundred--a quarter--an eighth--Erie--an eighth--Steam--aneighth----"

  "What does this mean?" questioned Bill. "It sounds like stockquotations. Can it be----?"

  He decided to risk glancing into the room.