ng arm, injected the permanganate into
the wound.

Meantime, the ranger stood silent, his face pale, his jaws set
courageously. "Where did you learn to do all that?" he finally asked
Charley, with evident admiration. "You go about it like a doctor."

"When the Wireless Patrol was in camp at Fort Brady," replied Charley,
"one of the fellows was bitten by a copperhead. Dr. Hardy had already
drilled us in first-aid and we knew just what to do. You bet none of us
will ever forget."

"I shall owe my life to you," said Mr. Morton. "That is, I shall if----"

"There's no if about it," interrupted Charley with determination. "We got
most of the poison out of your arm. I'll bet on that. What's left may make
you sick, but it can't kill you. What we've got to do is to prevent that
poison from reaching your heart, at least in any quantity. You sit down
against this tree and keep quiet so your heart will beat as slow as
possible. In about twenty minutes loosen this bottom cord. Loosen the
middle one after another twenty minutes, and open the third at the end of
an hour. That's all I know how to do. Thank God, we've got a wireless
here! Now I'm going to get it up as quick as possible."

He tore open the pasteboard boxes and took out one instrument after
another, coupling up the wires quickly and skilfully. Then he seized the
little axe, chopped some branches for spreaders, fastened the aerial wires
to them, and added other wires to suspend them by. Quickly he selected two
trees for supports, and climbing up first one and then the other, soon had
his aerial dangling directly above the fire trail. He coupled up his
lead-in wire and ran his eye over the outfit. Everything was complete.
Only the power was lacking. With the axe he pried off the lid of the box
containing the battery, tore away the paper and excelsior wrappings, and
in another moment had his wires around the binding posts. He threw over
his switch, and springing to his key pressed his finger on it. A brilliant
flash shot between the points of his spark-gap. Rapidly he adjusted the
points until his instrument was giving a spark of maximum strength. Then
he settled himself to the task ahead.

"WXY--WXY--WXY--CBC," called Charley. (Frankfort Radio Station--Charley
Russell calling.) Several times he repeated the call. Then he shut off his
switch and sat in silence listening for a reply. None came.

"They may be talking to somebody," he muttered. Again he called.
"WXY--WXY