The stunt did more than earn the boys a large share of fame. It made them so deservedly popular, even with most of the upper classmen, that they soon counted a good many friends and a considerable number of patrons for radio construction. It is a rather odd fact that methods already mastered by those of their own age appeal to boys more than the teachings of their elders. So, although the students were getting, or had got, the theory of radio activity and the practice of wireless fully stuffed into them, they turned often to Bill and Gus for help. There were a number of the well-to-do, even among the seniors, who wanted radio receivers made, or coaching in making their own, and to this Bill and Gus responded out of school hours, with the consent of the president, thus earning a good many dollars.
So as not to interfere in any way with the school-shop program, and not to crowd those lads who were finding the room in the shop and the tools to their advantage, Bill and Gus rented an unused storeroom in the basement of the dormitory. They cleared it out, sent for their own tools at Freeport, purchased others—a foot-power lathe, a jigsaw and a hand wall-drill—and put up some benches. Besides working therein themselves, they charged also the modest price of twenty-five cents an hour to others mechanically inclined.
The liberal-minded school faculty found no fault with an arrangement which could only mean a more thorough learning and a finer comradeship among the students. The professors, who often visited and even worked in the little shop—some of them paying their quota also—came to refer familiarly to the place as the “commercial and sales department.”
Professor Grant, the very able teacher of physics, who possessed far more theoretical knowledge than practice, gave the boys many valuable ideas out of class, and got some himself, being also a deadhead. And Search, the manual-training teacher, who knew the use of tools as a bee knows honey, got a few ideas while imparting many, as he also was made welcome to tinker around the boys’ shop.
These were truly strenuous days and weeks for Bill and Gus. They had little studying to do, for Bill grasped problems as a trout takes in minnows, and he needed but to coach Gus briefly. The latter spent only a quarter-hour each day in the gym, never indulging in contests, but content to work hard at the things that best kept him fit. He had elected not to put himself under the instructor, grudging the time. But one day when he went over and, with his bare, work-hardened fists, punched a lively rubber bag for several minutes, Professor LeRoy, who had been watching, came to Gus with almost a demand that he join the boxing class in view of the Marshallton Tech entering contests with other schools during the coming winter. But Gus declined.
“No; I haven’t the speed and I am weak with my left, as you may have noticed. Hurt it once on a lathe in my father’s shop; never will be any good for quick work.”
“We will overcome that,” said the instructor, “develop it.”
“Also,” declared the boy, “I have neither the time nor the inclination. Must work and nothing much else. But I thank you, Professor.”
“Sorry, my boy; you’ve certainly got a wicked right and you can use the other.”
“I’d want to use both,” asserted Gus, laughing.