Radio Boys Loyalty Part 6

Bill pondered this and turned to his work, but dropped his tools in a moment, explaining to Tony that there were other figures they must have for calculating the strength of the battery and he would go back and tell Gus.

Bill reached the bas.e.m.e.nt stairs, and in an alcove, alone, as though seeking to hide, was the fellow Luigi. He turned sharply, facing Bill and glaring in evident resentment at the latter's broad, curious stare.

Then the Sicilian spoke:

"Well, you see me. I it is, freshman. Stare at me some more as if I were something to step on and I will give you more reason to stare."

"What's the matter with you, you, you--" demanded Bill, stopping short and much incensed.

"Ah! Wop? Guinea? Dago? Sphagett--so I am insulta--is it? And by a short-leg!"

"I'd rather have short legs than short brain."

"I like you so well I smash you in the face!"

Suiting the action to the word Luigi advanced upon Bill, who turned and swung his crutch menacingly.

What then would have occurred it is impossible to surmise, for the crippled boy was handy with the familiar implement that so readily could be used as a weapon, though the Italian was st.u.r.dier, heavier and much older--in fact, although small, he was almost a man.

But just at the moment there was a quick, descending footfall on the stair and the door opened. Gus, with wide eyes, stared at the near and unequal combatants.

"Hold on!" said the big fellow, glaring. The Italian hesitated, though but for a moment. "You wouldn't really hit a fellow who is lame, would you?"

"Ah, get away! Go off!" snarled Malatesta, attempting to thrust Gus aside as the strapping youth stepped in front of him. But the thrust was futile and then Luigi, growing furious, struck at Gus a powerful blow.

The fellow was muscular and quick, but there was no thought behind the blow. And there was in contrast a smile on the face of the easy, athletic American.

The Italian's fist was clutched by a ready hand, much as a baseball would have been caught, and then a very differently directed fist shot out and came in contact with Luigi's upper stomach--he got that generally final solar plexus blow. Luigi gave a soft, aching grunt and sank to his knees, then to his elbows and rolled over on his side, in a half-minute more sitting up and gazing around, but still in pain. He was again alone.

CHAPTER XII

TESTS

"I suppose now we'll all get blown up, or poisoned, or something," Bill said to Tony, after telling of the eclipse of Luigi Malatesta.

"Oh, no; the Malatesta are foemen worthy of our steel, to agree by an English poet; is it not?"

"'Foeman worthy of a steal,' I guess you mean," laughed Gus.

"Yes, that's more like it. I wouldn't trust that pig-faced villain across a ten-acre lot with a ten-cent piece!" declared Bill.

"The soul of honor doesn't dwell in a husky guy who'd strike a cripple,"

said Gus. "And I bet a cow he's going to stir up more trouble around here before he quits maneuvering."

Tony made no reply, but stood for a long time, gazing at the floor.

Presently only the sound of tools and machines was heard in the shop.

It is not probable that Luigi told of the precise outcome of his clash with Bill and Gus, though he may have said enough to influence soph.o.m.ore sentiment against Bill's standing in the school. At any rate, the feeling grew in strength and spread until it became a subject of comment among freshmen and seniors who were inclined to sympathize with the brainy and keen-witted lame boy. At least he had many friends, both high and low, and most of the teachers admired him openly.

So far the sentiment had been rather more doubtful and erratic than determined. There had been nothing to warrant the a.s.sumption that Bill thought himself more intelligent than the soph.o.m.ores, or members of his own cla.s.s. His radio knowledge was somewhat a thing apart and in that he shared with the less obtrusive Gus.

And then the lightning struck, suddenly and hard. Once each week an outsider from the engineering department of some big industrial plant, or large university, lectured to the entire student body of the Marshallton Tech in the a.s.sembly-room, and there were some of these talkers who got much pleasure out of it. Not only was it interesting to hold forth to a lot of eager, responsive boys on subjects that elicited their curiosity, as the building of great dams and bridges, the tunneling under mountains, the erection of mighty machines, but it was also diverting to hear their various comments which also led to a comparative estimate of their understanding.

Davidson, chief mechanical engineer of a great mill building corporation, was especially interested in the personal equation concerning the students, particularly after Bill Brown bad asked him a lot of questions, some of which he had replied to rather lamely. Even more as a matter of getting back at this young investigator who sat with a crutch held before him and regarded these replies with a smile than for the desire to measure minds, Davidson gathered a few catch problems that were stumpers, and upon his third visit, after talking awhile he switched off on the subject of problems, short cuts to solutions and then put a question, looking hard at Bill, as though uttering a challenge.

"Now, how would you go about it," he shot at his audience, "if you were asked to measure the cubic contents of an electric light bulb?"

A number of smiles greeted the question; these may have been from lads mostly in the advanced courses who knew the trick. The lecturer asked for hands to be raised by those who thought they could do it, and noting with satisfaction that the crippled boy was not among the number who responded, he began hearing them, one at a time.

"Measure it outside and allow for the thickness of the gla.s.s," said one fellow.

"But how about the carbon inside?" asked Davidson.

"Break the gla.s.s and measure the loop," called out a soph.

"How many of you would go at it in that way?"

A number of hands went up, some rather reluctantly, as though their owners scented a trick.

Davidson still eyed the cripple. "How would you do it?" he asked.

Bill shook his head and said, "It is that old trick of Edison's and it's dead easy. I guess a good many of our fellows know about it. You simply punch a hole in the bulb, fill it with water, pour it back and measure the water."

"Yes; that's right. It is really the only sure way," said the man, his manner showing disappointment.

"Oh, no; it isn't, begging your pardon. Oh, no, not the only way," said Bill.

"Well, now, how else----"

"Put water in a graduated gla.s.s, stick the bulb in up to the plaster seal and note the increase. Then break the gla.s.s and the carbon and put that in separately, deducting the last amount from the first."

Davidson scratched his head. "Yes; that would do it, of course, too, but----"

"But you said the other was the only way," insisted Bill.

"Oh, well, the only quick and sure way. Of course, there are other methods."

"I'm sorry to have to disagree with you, but my method is just as sure and quicker."

"It might do--it might do! You seem to be ready with short cuts in mechanics. How would you quickly divide a board seventeen and three-eighths inches wide into five equal parts? Can anyone here do it?"

"That's easy," said Bill.

"Well, then, how about this one? If a pint cup----"

"Your question about dividing the board is too interesting to pa.s.s over so hastily," interrupted Professor Search. "If you will pardon me, I would suggest that Brown go to the board and demonstrate it."