He let his eyes rove over the ship in desperation, then a happy
thought came to him.
"The wireless!" he said aloud. "Bonehead! Why didn't you think of
that long ago?" A glance at the rigging showed him that the Santa
Cruz was equipped with a plant, and a moment later he was
hammering at the operator's door.
"I want to send a message right away!" he cried, excitedly; but
the "wireless" shook his head with a smile.
"I'm sorry, but--"
"It's important; awfully important. I'll pay you anything!" Kirk
rammed a hand mechanically into his empty pocket.
"We're installing a new system," said the operator. "The old
apparatus wasn't satisfactory and it's being changed throughout."
"Then you-you can't send a message--possibly?"
"Nothing doing until the next trip."
Kirk strode forward and stared disconsolately down upon the
freight deck in a vain endeavor to collect his thoughts. How in
the devil had he managed to get into this mess? Could it be one of
Higgins's senseless pranks, or was there something deeper, more
sinister behind it? He recalled the incidents of that wild night
and began to have a disquieting doubt. Did that chance meeting
with the chap from St. Louis have anything to do with his presence
here, or had he really decided in some foolish, drunken whim to
take a trip to Central America? He hardly knew what to think or
where to begin his reasoning.
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