The Boy Inventors' Radio Telephone

CONTENTS

CHAPTER

I. THE POWER OF THE AIR

II. AN ENCOUNTER WITH A CHARACTER

III. THE PROFESSOR'S DILEMMA

IV. "WHERE IS HE?"

V. CHESTER CHADWICK--INVENTOR

VI. THE RADIO TELEPHONE

VII. THE GREAT TEST

VIII. TALKING THROUGH SPACE

IX. THE BOYS FACE TROUBLE

X. AN INVOLUNTARY AËRONAUT

XI. BY THE ROADSIDE

XII. MAKING ENEMIES

XIII. THE LEADEN TUBE

XIV. IN THE HOSPITAL

XV. A TALE OF THE COLORADO

XVI. ZEB CUMMINGS

XVII. IN THE LABORATORY

XVIII. INTO THE STORM

XIX. THE "LIGHTNING CAGE"

XX. THROUGH THE AIR

XXI. VAULTING TO THE RESCUE

XXII. "Z. 2. X."

XXIII. ON THE BORDER LINE

XXIV. "THE THREE BUTTES"

XXV. INTO THE BEYOND

XXVI. THE START FOR THE UNKNOWN

XXVII. THE PROFESSOR'S SECOND DILEMMA

XXVIII. THE UPPER REGIONS

XXIX. A MUD BATH

XXX. NIGHT ON THE COLORADO

XXXI. THE ISLAND OF MYSTERY

XXXII. THROUGH THE WOODS

XXXIII. THE SECRET AT LAST

XXXIV. THE INTERLOPERS

XXXV. TRIUMPH

XXXVI. THE HOMECOMING




The Boy Inventor's Radio-Telephone.




CHAPTER I.

THE POWER OF THE AIR.


"That's it, Jack. Let her out!"

"Suffering speed laws of Squantum, but she can travel!" exclaimed Dick
Donovan, redheaded and voluble.

"I tell you, electricity is the thing. Beats gasoline a million ways,"
chimed in Tom Jesson. Tom sat beside his cousin, Jack Chadwick, on the
driver's seat of a curious-looking automobile which was whizzing down
the smooth, broad, green-bordered road that led to Nestorville, the
small town outside Boston where the Boy Inventors made their home.

The car that Jack Chadwick was driving differed in a dozen respects
from an ordinary automobile. There was no engine hood in front.
Instead of a bonnet the car, which was low slung, long and painted
black, had a sharp prow of triangular shape. Its body, in fact, might
be roughly compared to the form of a double-ended whaleboat.

As it sped along outside the city limits, and immune from hampering
speed laws, the car emitted no sound.

It moved silently, without the usual sharp staccato rattle of the
exhaust. Behind it there was no evil-smelling trail of gasoline and
oil smoke. The car glided as silently as a summer breeze on its
wire-wheels, like those of a bicycle enlarged.

"I'll get a great story out of this," declared Dick Donovan, who, as
readers of other volumes of this series know, was a reporter on a
Boston paper. "That is, if you'll let me write it," he added, leaning
forward over the front seat from the tonneau as he spoke.

"How about it, Jack?" asked Tom with an amused smile. "Shall we let
Dick here get famous at our expense again?"