Stan smiled, and put out his hand.
“I’ll have to hand it to you, old kid,” he said. “I can supply the practical experience, but you certainly were born with all the brains and genius for both of us.”
He began turning the loop slowly, pausing whenever Dick signified for him to do so, and in such a manner that the focus of the parabola moved in a great circle from the south to the east—counter-clockwise, in other words. First a small station in New Mexico, then El Paso, and finally Chicago and New York swung in, loud enough to be just comfortable in the telephones.
The two young men smiled into each other’s eyes, contentedly, experiencing the joy of a dream come true and appreciating the beautiful creation on the work bench as only one can appreciate modern wireless telegraphy who has followed the art from its coherer stage. Dick snapped off the tubes, and the two removed their head-sets.
“Some set!” said Dick, the student.
“Some set!” agreed Stan, the good fellow, sensing the coming of one of the friendly arguments, more or less one-sided, which they frequently indulged in. Sure enough, Dick frowned at him (his method of collecting his thoughts) and began:
“This set is appallingly stupid and simple, isn’t it?”
“No, it isn’t!” snapped back Stan. “It’s complicated as the devil.”
The fray was on.