visit to the chief of police. "I was certain they would
be rounded up before this."

"Guess they must have made a break for the tall timber," said Joe.

"Decided, maybe, it isn't just healthy around here," added Herb, with a
grin.

And then, just when they had decided that Cassey and his gang had made a
masterly getaway, the radio boys got on their trail once again.

That very evening, when tuning in for the concert, they caught another
of those mysterious, stuttering messages in the unmistakable voice of
Dan Cassey!

"Rice, rats, make hay," was the substance of this message, and the boys
would have laughed if they had not been so dumbfounded.

"What do you know about that?" gasped Jimmy. "That old boy sure has his
nerve with him."

"They're still hanging around here somewhere!" cried Bob excitedly.
"They've probably got a hiding place that even the police can't find."

"Oh, if we could only make sense of this!" exclaimed Herb, staring at
the apparently senseless message which he had written down. "If we only
had their code the whole thing would be simple."

"Oh, yes, if we only had a million dollars, we'd be millionaires!"
retorted Jimmy scornfully. "Where do you get that stuff, anyway?"

"Well," said Bob, temporarily giving up the problem, "as far as I can
see, all there is for us to do is to keep our eyes and ears open and
trust to luck. Now what do you say we listen in on the concert for a
little while?"

In the days that followed Cassey's voice came to them several times out
of the ether, and always in that same cryptic form that, try as they
would, they could not make out.

It was exasperating, that familiar voice coming to them out of the air
day after day without giving them the slightest clue to the whereabouts
of the speaker.

And then, while they were in town one day, they quite unexpectedly ran
into their old friend, Frank Brandon, the wireless inspector, whose work
for some time had taken him into another district.

However, he was to stay in Clintonia for a few days on business now, and
since he had nothing particular to do that day, Bob enthusiastically
invited him up to his home for a visit.

"Maybe you can give us some tips on our set," Bob added, as Mr. Brandon
readily accepted the invitation. "We're not altogether satisfied with
our batteries. For some reason or other they burn out too quickly."

"Yes, I'll take a look at it," agreed Mr. Brandon good-naturedly.
"Although I imagine