Page:Jack Heaton, Wireless Operator (Collins, 1919).djvu/158

 sea and below it lay the waters of big Glace Bay. Three low buildings—at least they looked very low to me as I gaged them with the height of the towers around them—are used for housing the apparatus.

After being halted several times by watchmen picketed on the grounds I finally got to the office and told the man in charge I wanted to see one of the operators, Howard Brice, who, you will remember, was one of my boon wireless chums of Montclair days.

We hadn’t seen each other since he and I became professional operators and we had a regular old sea-captain’s time of it recounting our experiences.

“Want to see the station, Jack?” he asked.

“Don’t mind if I do,” I replied in a don’t-give-a-care way.

The building we were in not only contained the office but a sound proof room in which the receiving sets were placed. When we crossed the threshold I was standing in a room where even the directors of the company could not tread, not because they were, like angels, afraid, but the men higher up were afraid to let them,