Bob put a dab of shellac on one end of the paper to get it started, stuck the end on the wooden core, and then started winding the paper onto it at a slow speed. Joe moved the roll of paper back and forth to wind it smoothly and evenly, while Herb shellacked for all he was worth, giving himself almost as liberal a dose of the sticky gum as he gave the paper. It was not long before the core was neatly wrapped, and Bob stopped his lathe.
"That looks fine," he said, eyeing the job critically. "Now, while that shellac is drying out a bit, let's see if we can't coax Doughnuts to get up off that couch."
All three boys made a dive for their luckless companion, but he was up and off before they could reach him, with a nimbleness that would not have disgraced a jack rabbit.
"No, you don't!" he exclaimed. "I beat you to it. I suppose it makes you feel jealous to see me resting once in a while, instead of slaving my head off as usual. If you Indians had your way I'd be worn to a shadow in no time."
"It's easy to see we don't have our way much, then," laughed Herb.
"You've got a long way to go before you get in the shadow class, Jim."
"It can't be too far to suit me," responded that youth. "But what I want to know is, is that tuning coil wound yet? Seems to me you take a lot of time to do a simple thing like that."
"You'd better sing small, or first thing you know you'll find yourself in the coal bin," threatened Joe. "How about throwing him in just for luck, fellows?"
"You've got a funny idea of what luck is," said Jimmy. "I never did care much for coal bins. Thank you just the same."
"You're welcome," retorted Joe. Then to Bob: "Do you think we can wind the wire on now, Bob?"
"Why, I guess so," said Bob, testing the shellac with his finger. "It's getting pretty tacky now; so if we wind the wire on right away the shellac will help to hold it in place when it dries."