"He is so crazy about radio
himself these days that he will pretty nearly stand on his head to
help anybody who takes an interest in it."
"I guess all our dads are bricks about radio," declared Jimmy stoutly.
"Mine said the other night he was mighty glad to have a youngster that
had sense enough to pick out something really good to waste his time
on."
"Waste, is right," said Herb and then stared upward through the trees
as Jimmy's indignant stare was fixed upon him.
"Stop scrapping, fellows," said Bob, jumping to his feet and shaking
off some of the twigs and damp earth that stuck to him. "Let's get
busy and find Doctor Dale. If he won't let us have his house then
this thing is all off."
"Swell chance, his not letting us have his house," said Jimmy, getting
painfully to his feet and shaking himself for all the world like a fat
puppy dog. "He's the greatest sport going."
"He sure is," Bob agreed as they swung off at a great pace through
the woods. "If it hadn't been for him we probably wouldn't have known
anything about radio."
For a while they were quiet, their minds busy with plans for
perfecting their own radio outfits, their imaginations athrill
with anticipation of the wonders they were yet to perform.
Then Herb suddenly broke into their dreams with a very practical
question.
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