"It can't," returned Herb. "If some one had been lucky enough to get a glimpse of one of the thieves, then good old radio would have its chance. We could wireless the description all over the country and before long somebody would make a capture."

Bob nodded.

"That's where the cunning of these rascals comes in," he said. "Either n.o.body sees them at all, or when they do the thieves are so well disguised by masks that a useful description isn't possible."

"Were the fellows who held up your father's truck masked?" asked Jimmy with interest.

Herb nodded.

"From all I can hear," he said. "It was a regular highway robbery affair--masks, guns, and all complete. The driver of the truck said there were only two of them, but since they had guns and he was unarmed, there wasn't anything he could do.

"They made him get down off the truck, and then they bound his hands behind him and hid him behind some bushes that bordered the road. He would probably be there yet if he hadn't managed to get the gag out of his mouth and hail some people pa.s.sing in an automobile. Poor fellow!"

he added. "Any one might have thought he had robbed the truck from the way he looked. He was afraid to face dad."

"Well, it wasn't his fault," said Joe. "No man without a weapon is a match for two armed rascals."

"Didn't he say what the robbers looked like?" insisted Jimmy. "He must have known whether they were short or tall or fat or skinny."

"He said they were about medium height, both of them," returned Herb.

"He said they were both about the same build--rather thin, if anything.

But their faces were so well covered--the upper part by a mask and the lower by bandana handkerchiefs--that he couldn't give any description of them at all."

"I bet," Bob spoke up suddenly, "that whoever is at the head of that rascally gang knows the danger of radio to him and his plans. That's why his men are so careful to escape recognition."

The boys stared at him for a minute and then suddenly the full force of what he intimated struck them.

At the same instant the name of the same man came into their minds--the name of a man who used radio for the exchange of criminal codes, a man who stuttered painfully.

"Ca.s.sey!" they said together, and Herb added, thoughtfully:

"I wonder!"

CHAPTER XV

OFF TO THE WOODS

For days the town hummed with the excitement that followed the daring robbery of the truck belonging to Mr. Fennington, but as time pa.s.sed and there seemed little prospect of bringing the robbers to justice, interest died down. But the radio boys never abated their resolve to do all in their power to recover the stolen merchandise, although at that time they were kept so busy in high school, preparing for a stiff examination, that they had little time for anything else.

"It's getting so bad lately that I don't even get time to enjoy my meals," grumbled Jimmy, one sunny spring afternoon. "Swinging an oar a la Ben Hur would be just a little restful exercise after the way we've been drilling the last week."

"Get out!" exclaimed Joe. "Why, you wouldn't last two hours in one of those galleys, Doughnuts. They'd heave you over the side as excess baggage once they got wise to you."

"After two hours of rowing in one of those old galleys, he'd be glad to get heaved overboard, I'll bet," put in Herb, grinning. "I think Jimmy would rather drown any day than work that hard."

"Huh! I don't see where you fellows get off to criticize," retorted the hara.s.sed youth. "I never saw any of you win gold medals for hard and earnest work."

"Lots of people deserve medals who never get them," Bob pointed out.

"Yes. But, likewise, lots of people don't deserve 'em who don't get 'em," retorted Jimmy, and for once appeared to have won an argument.

"I guess you're right at that," conceded Bob. "But, anyway, I'm going to pa.s.s those examinations no matter how hard I have to work. It will pretty near break my heart, but it can't be helped."

The others were equally determined, and they dug into the mysteries of Horace and Euclid to such good effect that they all pa.s.sed the examinations with flying colors. After that came a breathing s.p.a.ce, and just at that time a golden opportunity presented itself.

Mr. Fennington, Herbert's father, had become interested, together with several other business men of Clintonia, in a timber deal comprising many acres of almost virgin forest in the northern part of the state. He was going to look over the ground personally, and when Herb learned of this, he urged his father to take him and the other radio boys along for a brief outing over the Easter holiday. When his father seemed extremely dubious over this plan, Herb reminded him that Mr. Layton had taken them all to Mountain Pa.s.s the previous autumn, and that it would be only fair to reciprocate.

"But the Lookers are up in that part of the country, too," said Mr.

Fennington. "Aren't you fellows scared to go where Buck Looker is?" he added, with a smile lurking about his mouth.

"Oh, yes, we're terribly afraid of that!" answered Herb sarcastically.

"We'll take our chances, though, if you'll only let us go with you."

"Well, well, I'll see," said his father, and Herb knew that this was practically equivalent to surrender. Accordingly he hunted up his chums and broached the project to them.

"Herb, your words are as welcome as the flowers in May," Bob told him, with a hearty slap on the back. "If this trip actually works out, we'll forgive you all last winter's jokes, won't we, fellows?"

"It's an awful lot to ask of a fellow, but I suppose we can manage it,"

said Joe, and Jimmy, after pretending to think the matter over very seriously, finally said the same.

They were all overjoyed at the prospect of such a trip, and had little difficulty in getting the consent of their parents. Mr. Fennington eventually consented to take the radio boys with him, and there ensued several days of bustle and excited packing. At length all was ready, and they found themselves, one bright spring morning, installed in a big seven-pa.s.senger touring car _en route_ for Braxton Woods, as the strip of timberland was called.

"This is the life!" chortled Jimmy, as the miles rolled away behind.

"Fresh air, bright sun, the song of birds, and--doughnuts!" and he produced a bulging paper bag full of his favorite dainty.

"How do you get that way?" asked Joe severely, although he eyed the bag hungrily. "The 'song of doughnuts!' You're the only Doughnut that I ever heard of that could sing, and you're no great shakes at it."

"Oh, you know what I meant!" exclaimed Jimmy. "At least, you're thicker than usual if you don't."

"Do you hear that, Joe?" laughed Bob. "The boy's telling you that you're thick. Are you going to stand for that?"

"He knows it's true. And, anyway, he doesn't dare talk back for fear I won't give him one of these delicious little morsels," said Jimmy placidly. "How about it, Joe?"

"That's taking mean advantage of a poor fellow who's practically dying of starvation," said Joe. "Give me a doughnut, and I won't talk back--until after I've eaten it, anyway."

"That's all right then," said his plump friend. "After you've eaten one, you'll feel so grateful to me that you'll regret all the low-down things you've ever said about me."

"Oh, you're the finest pal any fellow ever had," declared Joe. "How many doughnuts have you left, Jimmy?"

"Something tells me that you don't mean all you say," said Jimmy suspiciously. "Just the same, I'll take a chance and give you another one. They won't last long at the rate they're going; I can tell that without half trying."

"Well, a short life but a merry one," said Bob. "Come across with another, Jimmy, will you?"

"You know I love you too much to refuse you anything, Bob," said Jimmy.

"Just the same, I'm going to hold out another for myself, and then you big panhandlers can finish them up. I've just had four, but I suppose those will have to last me for the present."