Page:Jack Heaton, Wireless Operator (Collins, 1919).djvu/25

 “Hello, fellows,” I sang out as I opened the door.

“Shut up,” hissed Howard, while Johnny punched me in the ribs with his elbow and Charlie showed his butter teeth and flapped his open hand, which in kid language means keep still.

I sat down sulkily, for no self-respecting boy that can box the way I used to wants to be told to shut up, get a poke in the ribs and the signal to keep his face closed when he has only said, “Hello, fellows.” After a minute or two my curiosity bristled up for I must needs know what was going on. I looked at Bob. His face was a little longer than usual, his eyes were glassy and stared hard and he kept adjusting the detector nervously.

“What’s it all about, Howard?” I whispered in his ear.

Say, you’d think I’d committed a crime the way he scowled at me. Then he deigned to make a whispered reply.

“The Republic is sinking and is sending out C Q D’s.”

I could feel my heart stop beating, the blood leave my head, and my body get rigid, and it’s