"You think it's a joke?"

"I wouldn't call it anything but a lot of nonsense until I know more
about it."

"But doesn't it make you impatient to find out what it all means?"
Cub demanded.

"No, not in the least. I got over that long ago, my son. Don't let any
such habit grip you; it'll wear your nerves out, and then you won't have
any lead-in to connect your antennae with your brains."

"Ha, ha, ha," laughed the man's youthful audience in chorus, even Cub
appreciating the illustration.

"When did you begin to study radio, Mr. Perry?" asked Bud.

"Oh, I've been learning rapidly ever since I was thrown into the company
of you hams," was the reply. "But don't let me get you off the question."

"The question--what was the question?" asked Cub, digging his fingers
into his rather lengthy locks of hair.

"Mystery, wasn't it?" reminded Mr. Perry.

"Yes, that's it," Bud replied. "The mystery of the Radio Robinson Crusoe
in the Lake of the Thousand Isles."

"That sounds interesting, but it's mostly a poetic, or ecstatic, jumble
of words," said Mr. Perry. "And right there is the secret of many a