They landed at the little wharf and plodded through the heavy sand.

"Dismal-looking place, isn't it?" said Hazeltine, as he opened the back
door of the station.

"Well, I don't know; it has its good p'ints," replied his companion.
"Your neighbors' hens don't scratch up your garden, for one thing. What
do you do in here?"

"This is the room where we receive and send. This is the receiver."

The captain noticed with interest the recorder, with its two brass
supports and the little glass tube, half filled with ink, that, when
the cable was working, wrote the messages upon the paper tape traveling
beneath it.

"Pretty nigh as finicky as a watch, ain't it?" he observed.

"Fully as delicate in its way. Do you see this little screw on the
centerpiece? Turn that a little, one way or the other, and the operator
on the other side might send until doomsday, we wouldn't know it. I'll
show you the living rooms and the laboratory now."

Just then the door at the other end of the room opened, and a man, whom
Captain Eri recognized as one of the operators, came in. He started when
he saw Hazeltine and turned to go out again. Ralph spoke to him:

"Peters," he said, "where is Mr. Langley?"