spits. Hal and Bud watched him eagerly, and, with a
skill indicating long and studied practice, read the message their lanky
friend shot through the ether.

First he tuned for a few moments and then sent the call which had
accompanied the first Canadian's "SOS". Then he threw back the switch and
received a speedy answer. There seemed to be an almost spasmodic
eagerness in the manner in which he sent his acknowledgment.

"I heard your call for help," was Cub's next cast. "Who was that fellow
that snapped you up so sassy?"

"I don't know," answered the professed castaway. "I've been trying to get
help for more than a day, and he always breaks in and queers my call. He
makes everybody think I'm putting up a prank."

"Where is your island?" asked Cub.

"Somewhere in the Thousand Islands. That's the best I can locate it. I've
never been here before. Where are you?"

"At Oswego, New York."

"What's your call?"

"A V L."

"Can you do anything for me?"

"I don't know what I can do unless I try to interest somebody near you by
wireless. I'll send out a broadcast in any manner you may suggest. But
you can do that just as well as I."

"I have done it over and over, but it does not do any good," said
"Crusoe". "That evil genius of mine always manages to queer me. Finally I
got so desperate that I sent out an SOS."

"And committed a radio crime," broke in the alleged evil genius. "Don't
you know the rules governing that distress signal?"

"There he is again," "Crusoe" dot-and-dashed.

"Who are you?" demanded Cub.

"I am Canadian amateur," was the reply. "That fellow who sent the
distress signal is a Canadian college student trying to put over a
college prank. I am on his trail to prevent him. We have a wager up; if
he induces anybody to go to his rescue, I lose."

"That is not true," interposed the sender of the SOS.

"What is your call?" Cub inquired.

"Yes, give it to him, and tell him what college I am from," proposed the
"fellow on the island".

"One of the conditions of our wager is that I must not reveal my
identity," returned the anonymous amateur. "He's bound by like terms. He
does not dare give you his name and address."

"That fellow is insane or a villain," declared "Crusoe". "I do not know
who he is, but if I starve to death, he'll be a wanton murderer. My name
is Raymond Flood. I am not a college student. I am a high school student
at Kingston."

"Is his name Raymond Flood?" was Cub's next qu