"But, dear boy, the dowels were easier to put in."
"Oh, well, it's done now. To-morrow we'll begin the mounting and wiring.
Then for the aërial!"
But that very to-morrow brought with it the hardest blow the boys had yet had to face. Full of high spirits, they walked the half mile out to the Hooper place and found the garage a mass of blackened ruins. It had caught fire, quite mysteriously, toward morning, and the gardener and chauffeur, roused by the crackling flames, had worked like beavers but with only time to push out the two automobiles; they could save nothing else.
The Hoopers had just risen from breakfast when the boys arrived; at once Grace came out, and her expressions of regret were such as to imply that the family had lost nothing, the boys being the only sufferers. And it was a bit staggering—all their work and machinery and tools and plans utterly ruined—the lathe and drill a heap of twisted iron. It was with a rueful face that Bill surveyed the catastrophe.
"Never mind, Billy," said Grace, detecting evidence of moisture in his eyes; but she went over to smiling Gus and gazed at him in wonder. "Don't you care?" she asked.
"You bet I care; mostly on Bill's account, though. He had set his heart mighty strong on this. I'm sorry about your loss, too."
"Oh, never mind that! Dad is 'phoning now for carpenters and his builder. He'll be out in a minute."
Out he did come, with a shout of greeting; he, too, had sensed that the real regrets would be with them.
"It'll be all right, me lads!" he shouted. "Herring'll be here on the next train, with a bunch o' men, an' I'll git your dad, Gus, too. Must have this building up just like it was in ten days. An' now count up just what you lads have lost; the hull sum total, b'jinks! I'm goin' to be the insurance comp'ny in this deal."
"The insurance company!" Bill exclaimed and Gus stared.