"DO you mean they could put them in jail just for broadcasting?" Glen asked.
Danny nodded. The sweat was standing out on his forehead, and his hands were trembling.
"But what's so bad about that?" Glen asked. "They aren't hurting anybody. It sounds sort of funny to hear that stuff on your radio and think that it's coming from some network."
"It's bad enough to interfere with regular stations," Danny explained, trying to talk to Glen and listen to the broadcasting at the same time, "but it's things like interfering with radio beams for airplanes, and ship signals, and even some train signals that make it so dangerous. They can cause all kinds of serious accidents."
"But they don't want to do anything like that," Danny's new friend protested. "They don't want to cause any real trouble."
"I know that," Danny told him, "but when they broadcast off their own assigned band, they don't know whom or what they are interfering with."
There was a loud burst of laughter on the other side of the partition.
"It was stuff just like that which almost caused our plane to crash into a mountain that night when we were coming here," the young woodsman went on. "If they hadn't gotten off the air when they did, we might have all been killed."
Glen started to speak again, but the door opened just then, and Larry stood there staring at him.
"What are you snooping around for?" his cousin demanded belligerently.
"You're broadcasting off your wavelength," Danny told him, trying to keep his voice even and calm in spite of the excitement that was churning within him.
"What's it to you?"
"You can wreck a plane or cause a lot of damage with broadcasts like that," Danny went on. "Besides, it's against the law."
"Do you want to give your sermon out here, or do you want to come in where all the guys can get in on it?" Larry asked sarcastically.
"It's really serious to broadcast that way, Larry," Danny persisted. "Clarence told me that they put a lot of guys in jail for it."
Larry stared at him, his face going white. By this time the other guys had quit broadcasting and had crowded about the door.
"It would be just about like you to go running to that friend of yours," Larry retorted. The color was coming back to his face now, and his fists were clenched tightly at his sides. "If you squeal on us, Danny Orlis," he gritted, "it'll be the last thing you ever do!"
He took a step or two toward Danny, his fist drawn back menacingly, but the young woodsman did not back away.
"Come on, guys," Larry said at last. "He's yellow. He won't dare to squeal on us."
"He'd better not!" two or three of the others threatened.
For a moment or two Danny and his newfound friend stood together in the basement.
"You won't dare to squeal on them, will you, Danny?" Glen asked at last.
"I don't know what to do," the young woodsman replied weakly. It wasn't that he was afraid of them. He had wrestled with his dad on the kitchen floor during long winter evenings until he knew how to take care of himself. "I don't want to squeal on them, but I promised Clarence that I'd help him. I don't know what to do," he said as he and Glen left for the drugstore.
The light was out in the radio room when he finally got back to the house. Clarence Gray's address and phone number were in the little notebook he carried in his pocket. How could he go back on his promise? But then again, how could he squeal on his cousin? Slowly, almost subconsciously, he reached for his Bible and began to leaf through its pages.
It would be so easy to make a deal with the guys, making them promise not to broadcast again. And yet he had promised Clarence to get him any information he learned as soon as possible. Anguish welled high in Danny's heart as he dropped to his knees and began to pray.
The young woodsman didn't sleep soundly that night. It was scarcely six o'clock and just getting daylight when he got up and started to dress. He was combing his hair when there was a knock at his door, and Larry came in.
"I'm sorry I got so mad last night," his cousin said.
"That's all right."
Larry sat down in the chair and took his handkerchief out of his pocket and began to toy with it. "Did you call your friend last night?" he asked.
Danny shook his head. He could feel the color draining from his cheeks.
"You...you aren't going to call him, are you, Danny?" Larry asked, his voice soft and pleading.
Danny sat down on the edge of the bed. "I don't know, Larry," he replied.
"It'll mean the reform school for me," Larry went on slowly. "I've been in trouble two or three times, and...and they put me on probation. It...it'll be reform school for sure."
Danny was biting his lower lip. "But I promised Clarence," he said miserably. "I gave him my word."
"You won't promise? Not even if it means the reform school for me?"
Danny shook his head.
"But...but you haven't called him yet; have you?"
"No," the young woodsman repeated, "I haven't called him yet."
At that moment Aunt Lydia came to the basement door. "There's a man up here to see you, Larry!"
The color fled from Larry's face. He looked quickly toward the door and back at Danny.
"You lied to me!" he snarled. "You told me you hadn't called him!"
Larry took a step toward Danny, his fist drawn back menacingly.