In about fifteen minutes Bob popped in and by this time I was right glad to see him. He looked over the apparatus, not like an amateur but like a professional operator, and saw to it that all of the wires were tight.
“You’ve got it connected up all right and we ought to get it. Somebody ought to be sending something.”
He put on the receiver and listened, but to no purpose. He looked perplexed. As he was listening and trying to adjust the receiver, he glanced out of the window.
“You’re a great operator, you are,” he said with a rueful countenance; “how do you suppose you’re going to get anything when you haven’t got your lightning switch closed?”
Well, from that day to this when anything goes wrong I always look first to-see if all the switches are closed and the connections are tight.
“Ollie Nichols of South Orange is telling Eddie Powers to meet him at the Y.M.C.A., and have a swim,” he said with a grin.
Then he clapped the receiver on my head and I heard the signals coming in as plain as