Ned couldn't help laughing at his whimsical chum's frank way of putting things. But presently he resumed, more seriously.
"Come, Herc, you don't do yourself justice. You laugh away your real ability. Look here, I'll give you an idea to work on. See what you can do with it."
"I'm all cheers—ears, I mean," declared Herc, leaning forward in interested fashion.
Ned realized that the flippant tone hid real interest. Without seeming to notice it, he went on.
"One of the most needed improvements in the modern aeroplane—I mean where it is used in warfare—is a perfected appliance for bomb-dropping. The present way is pretty clumsy. An aviator has to let go of his controls with one hand while he manipulates his bomb-dropping device with the other. Some bit of apparatus that would do the work, say by foot-power, would be a big improvement, and add a whole lot to the effectiveness of the machine using it."
Herc kindled to enthusiasm while Ned talked. His careless manner vanished.
"That's like you, Ned," he said with real warmth of affection, "always ready to help a fellow out. I'll try to work out something on the lines you suggested. It's time I did something, anyhow. But the idea will still be yours, no matter what I do with it."
"Pshaw!" chuckled Ned, "didn't Shakespeare work over old stories into great plays?"
"I suppose so," agreed Herc, who did not care to display his almost total darkness concerning the late Mr. Shakespeare and his methods.