As the hum of machinery sounded
from the power plant, Jack laid a hand on Bob's arm.
"Look here, Bob. Wait a minute."
Bob regarded him inquiringly, his fingers reaching for the knobs on
the instrument box before him, preparatory to sending out his signal
call.
"What is it, now?"
"Well, you know old Frank will have his ear glued to the receiver at
the cave. Suppose you call your father, but tell Frank to listen in
and not interrupt."
"Right," said Bob. "Well, here goes." And he began calling the Hampton
ranch.
CHAPTER XXXI
CALM AFTER THE STORM
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.
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