So fascinating had been the glimpses of life in the brook that time had sped much faster than either boy realized.

They hurried back to their camp.  They had taken the precaution to sling their grub high above ground on a piece of wire, but apparently nothing had tried to molest anything.  Lew rekindled the fire in the little stone fireplace they had built and Charley uncovered the wireless instruments and sat down on one pack bag.  The other he flung to Lew.  Then he slipped the receivers on his head, threw over his switch, and sent the bright sparks flashing between the points of his spark-gap.

“CBWC—­CBWC—­CBWC—­CBC,” he rapped out. (Camp Brady Wireless Club, Charley Russell calling.)

Then he sat in silence, waiting for an answer.  It came promptly.

“CBC—­CBC—­CBC—­I—­I—­I—­GA.” (Charley Russell—­We’re here.  Go ahead.)

“Got ’em,” he cried.  He answered and got a reply.  “They want to know why we didn’t call up last night,” Charley said to Lew.

The fire in the little fireplace burned clear and bright, making a circle of light in the dark forest.  Lew sat near the fire, cross-legged on his pack bag, thrusting an occasional stick into the flames.  Charley sat by his instrument.  Rapidly he pressed the key, and the sparks flew between the points of his gap like tiny flashes of horizontal lightning.

“Hello!  Is that you, Willie?” rapped out Charley.

“Sure,” came the answer.  “But we’re all here.  Why didn’t you call up last night?”

“Couldn’t,” answered Charley.  “Didn’t reach Old Ironsides camp site until long after dark.  Forest fires have burned up all the timber there.  Spring dried up, too.  Had terrible time.  Awful thirsty and no water to drink.  Too tired to put up aerial.”

“Where are you now?”

“In the third valley east of Old Ironsides.  Never been so far in the mountains before.  Grand stand of timber here.  Great trout stream.  Full of big ones.  Won’t touch worms or flies.  Just been catching crabs to try to-morrow.”

“Get any yet?”

“One big one.”

“Have any adventures?”

“Not unless you call our experience in the burned timber an adventure.  Toughest thing I’ve stacked up against in a long time.  Timber burned for miles.  No fish.  Raccoons catching ’em out of the little pools.  Had to come here to get any.  What are you doing?”

“Everybody hard at work.  I got a new job yesterday helping a fellow make a wireless outfit.”

“Where?”

“Right here.  We’re making it in my shop.”

“Will you be there to-morrow?”

“Sure.  All day.”

“We’ll call you.”

“Good!  I’ll listen in every hour on the hour.  Then you can get me almost any time.”

“Bully for you.  We’re going to fish to-morrow, but we may catch so many in the morning that we won’t want to fish after dinner.  I’ll let you know how we make out.  Good luck to you all.  Wish you were here.  We’ll bring you a nice mess of fish, anyway.  Good-night.”