Ben walked as if he were treading on air. His comrade, carrying the box, was thoughtfully going over the great fund of information he had obtained in the preceding two hours.
“I say!” he spoke suddenly, coming to a halt.
“What’s up?” challenged Ben.
“I was thinking it would be handier to leave this box at the station.”
“I’m sure it would. You see, it’s nearer our place,” counselled Ben eagerly, glad of any excuse that would take them back to the fascinating influence of Station Z.
They faced about and proceeded back over the course they had come.
“Look here, Tom,” broke in Ben on the thoughts of his comrade, “are you going to try and raise that hundred dollars?”
“Yes, if possible.”
“Wish I could help you. Going to ask your father?”
“No,” replied Tom. “In the first place, I don’t think he would let me have it. You know he calls my craze after wireless, as he terms it, all a fad,—says I’d better think of getting through school before I take up outside things.”