ncert was being
broadcast on 350. The booming tones of a baritone had been coming in as
softly and sweetly as a mother's lullaby. But now Curlie's ear detected
interference.

Instantly he was all alert. The receiver was clamped down over his ears,
a half dozen switches were sent, snap, snap, snap. There followed a dead
silence. Then in a shrill boyish voice, together with the baritone's
renewal of his song, there came:

"I want the world to know that I am a wireless operator, op-er-a-a-tor.
Hoop-la! Tra-la!"

Curlie smiled in spite of his vexation. He acted quickly and with
precision. His slender fingers guided a coil-wound frame from right to
left. Backward and forward it glided, and as it moved the boyish
"Hoop-la" rose and fell. Almost instantly it came to a standstill.

"There! That's it!" he breathed.

Then to Joe Marion, "It's a shame about those kids. They won't learn to
play the game square. Don't know the rules and don't care. Think we
can't catch 'em, I guess."

His hand went out for a telephone.

"Superior 2231," he purred.

"That you, 2231? Just a moment."

He touched a key here, another there. He twisted a knob there, then:
"That you, Mulligan?" he half whispered. "Good! There's a kid on your
beat got a wireless running wild. Yes. Broke in on the concert. Don't be
hard on him. No license? Yes, guess that's right. Take away his sending
set. Give him another chance? Let him listen in. What's that? Location?
Clarendon Street, near Orton Place; about second door, I'd say. That's
all right. Thanks, yourself."

Dropping the receiver on its hook he tossed off his headpiece, snapped
at five buttons, then settled back in his chair.

"These kids'll be the death of me yet," he grumbled. "Always breaking
in, not meaning any harm but doing harm all the same. I don't feel so
very sore about them though. It's the fellows that go in for long wave
lengths and high power, that break in on 500, 1200 and 1800, that do the
real damage. Had a queer case last night. Looks crooked, too." He was
silent for a moment then he said reflectively:

"Guess that's about all till midnight. It's after midnight that the
queer birds come creeping out. I'm going to tell you about that one last
night, over the ham sandwich, dill pickle and coffee. No use to try
now--we'd sure get broken in on."

Joe Marion, who had been taken on as an understudy by Curlie, was at the
present time working without pay. At times when trouble develo