out of our way,” he said. Then he drew a radio telegraph blank from the pigeonhole of his desk and wrote this message:
When Henry returned to the radio shack with the message, the chief electrician was there. “Would you like to send the message yourself?” he asked.
“Indeed I would,” said Henry.
“All right. Go ahead.”
Henry sat down and flashed out the message as rapidly and surely as Mr. Sharp would have done it himself.
“Enter that in the log,” said the chief to young Black.
The latter said nothing. Sullenly he picked up a pen and made the entry. But if black looks could have killed anybody, both Henry and the chief electrician would have dropped dead in their tracks. Before the young radio man had finished writing, another message came crackling aboard: “Will meet you sixty-seven west, forty-two north.”
