"Oh, all right, all right," said Herb, laughing. "That's the very thing that Jimmy was telling me only this afternoon. He's putting a lot of sure fire extras on his set, too. I don't think there will be enough prizes to go around."

"I don't care whether there are or not, so long as I get one," said Joe, with frank selfishness. "One is all I want."

"That's probably exactly one more than you'll get," grinned Herb.

"But you may astonish us all by working up something really decent.

Funny things like that do happen, sometimes."

"'It's easier to criticize than to create,'" quoted Joe. "Likewise, 'he who laughs last, irritates.' If those two wise old sayings don't hold you for a while, I'll try to think up a few more for you."

"Oh, don't bother, that's plenty," laughed Herb. "It doesn't take many of those to satisfy me."

"Well, I'll have to leave you to your troubles," said Joe. "Now that I've got this idea in my noodle, I won't be able to rest until I get it worked up.

"Say, wait a minute," said Herb. "I heard a swell joke to-day, and I know you'll enjoy it. There was an Irishman and a Jew--" but at this formidable opening Joe rushed out, slamming the door behind him.

"Well, it's his loss," thought Herb. "But it is a crackerjack story, just the same. I'll have to go and find Bob and tell it to him."

He found Bob hard at work at his bench downstairs.

"Hey, Bob, want to hear a good joke?" he asked.

"Nope," said his friend, with discouraging brevity.

"Gee!" exclaimed Herb, "you're as bad as Joe. You neither of you seem to appreciate high-cla.s.s humor any more."

"Oh, we appreciate high-cla.s.s humor all right," said Bob, with a wicked grin. "It's only your kind that we can't stand for."

"Bang!" exclaimed Herbert. "That settles it. Any one of you knockers who wants to hear that story now will have to come to me and ask for it."

"That's all right, Herb. Just you hold on to it until we do. Maybe it will improve with a little aging."

"This story is so good that it can't be improved. But I'm going home now, so if you want to give yourself the pleasure of hearing it, you'd better say so right away."

"No, I'll get along somehow without it," answered Bob. "But maybe Jimmy would like to hear it. Have you tried it on him?"

"No, and what's more, I'm not going to. I've lost my confidence in that story now. I guess it can't be so good after all."

"Probably not," agreed Bob gravely.

"Oh, get out!" cried Herb. "I'm going home!" and he departed indignantly, slamming the door behind him.

CHAPTER XIX

A SPLENDID INSPIRATION

"Say, fellows, I've been thinking about something," said Bob seriously, so seriously, in fact, that the three boys who had been lolling on the gra.s.s turned over and regarded him with interest.

"Gosh, did you hear what he said?" asked Herb, with a grin. "He's got an idea, fellows. Hold your hats, I bet it's a bear."

"Spill it, Bob," came from Jimmy, lazily.

"Gee, he sure is a wonder, that boy," said Joe, regarding his friend admiringly. "I've never known him to run out of ideas yet. Not but what some of 'em are rotten," he added, grinning. The next minute he dodged a clump of moist earth thrown his way by the good-natured Bob, the result being that the missile landed square upon Jimmy's unoffending head.

The boys roared while poor Jimmy patiently brushed the dirt off, inquiring in injured accents what the big idea was, anyway.

"Good work, fellows," crowed Herb joyfully. "That's bully slap-stick work all right. You have a movie star beat a mile already."

"Say, cut out the comedy, will you, Herb?" asked Joe impatiently.

"I want to hear about this great idea of Bob's."

"I didn't say it was great, did I?" demanded Bob modestly. "It's just an idea, that's all."

"Well, shoot," demanded Herb laconically.

Bob was silent for a moment, wondering just how he could best express the thought that had suddenly come to him; just a little afraid that the others might laugh at him. And where is the boy who does not dread being laughed at more than anything else in the world?

The day had been unusually warm for the time of the year, and the radio boys, turning their backs upon the town, had started out for a long hike into the woods. The heat, together with a visit to the doughnut jar just before meeting the boys, had wearied Jimmy, and he had been the first to suggest a rest. And so, having come across a talkative little brook, hidden deep in the heart of the woodland, the boys had been content to follow Jimmy's suggestion.

Sprawled on the mossy ground in various ungraceful, though comfortable positions, the boys lazily watched the hurrying little brook, throwing a pebble into it now and then and talking of the thing that almost always filled their minds these days--their radio outfits.

At last, urged on by the boys, Bob made public his idea.

"Why, I was just thinking--" he said slowly. "I was just thinking how awfully slow things must be for the poor shut-ins--"

"What?" demanded Herb curiously.

Bob frowned. It bothered him to be interrupted, especially when it was hard to express what he felt.

"Shut-ins," he repeated impatiently. "People who can't get out and have fun like us fellows."

"Oh, you mean cripples like Joel Banks," said Herb with relief.

"Gee, did you just find that out?" murmured Jimmy, turning over on his stomach and wondering if he really ought to have eaten that last doughnut. "Some folks are awful stupid."

Herb showed a strong desire to avenge this insult, but Joe quelled the threatened riot.

"Cut out the rough stuff, can't you, fellows?" he asked disgustedly.

"Give Bob a chance."

"Well," Bob continued during the temporary quiet that ensued, "I was just thinking what a mighty fine thing it would be for these poor folks who never have any fun if they could have a radio attachment in their own houses so that no matter how crippled they were, they could listen to a concert or the news, or any old thing they wanted to, without going outside their houses."

"It sure would be fine," said Joe, a little puzzled as to what Bob was driving at but loyally certain that, whatever the idea, his chum was sure to be in the right.

"I don't get you at all," complained Jimmy, finally deciding that he really should have left that last doughnut alone, there was beginning to be a mighty uncomfortable sensation somewhere in the center of his being. "Radio probably would be a fine thing for cripples but, gee, we're not cripples--yet."

"Who said anything about us?" demanded Bob, disgruntled. "I never said we were cripples, did I?"