Again Mr. Hooper, Bill and Gus got on the
subject of radio and the old gentleman repeated his convictions:
"I ain't sayin' you boys can't do wonders, an' I'm fer you all the time,
but I'm not goin' t' b'lieve you kin do what's pretty nigh out o'
reason. Listen to me, now, fer a minute: If you fellers kin rig up a
machine to fetch old man Eddy's son's talk right here about two hundred
an' fifty mile, I'll hand out to each o' you a good hundred dollars;
yes, b'jinks. I'll make it a couple a hun--"
"No, Mr. Hooper, we value your friendship altogether too much to take
your money and that's too much like a wager, anyway." Bill was most
earnest. "But you must take our word for it that it can be done."
"Fetch old man Eddy's son's voice--!"
"Just that exactly--similar things have been done a-plenty. People are
talking into the radio broadcasters and their voices are heard
distinctly thousands of miles. But, Mr. Hooper, you wouldn't know Mr.
Edison's voice if you heard it, would you?"
"N--no, can't say as how I would--but listen here. I do know a feller
what works with him--they say he's close to the ol' man. Bill Medders.
Knowed Bill when he was a little cack, knee-high to a grasshopper. They
say he wrote a book about Eddy's son. I'd know Bill Medder's voice if I
heard it in a b'iler factory."
Bill Brown could hardly repress a smile. "I guess you must mean William
H. Meadowcroft.
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