“Pretty good, Dick,” he shouted. “Those stations down south are all piled together on almost the same wave. I didn’t think even the ‘het’ would separate ’em.” “Sh-h-h!” cautioned Dick. “There’s the Calgary station away up north in Canada. I’m going to try the new loop, now--wait a minute.” He removed his head-set and turned his attention to the egg-shaped affair previously referred to by Stan, connecting it in place of the outdoor antenna. The affair, Stan noticed, was shaped like half an egg, and rotated on a vertical axis at right angles to the normal horizontal line of an egg. Wire was wound on the parabolic wooden frame in such a fashion that the focus of the electrical parabola thus formed was fixed upon a point far out in space, in whatever direction the horizontal axis of the affair might be pointed. Dick turned back to the set, now much quieter, and motioned for Stan to turn the loop, slowly. Stan stretched a tentative hand toward the handle on top of the parabola, expecting a fearful shriek in the phones. Nothing of the sort occurred--he gave a slight whistle of amazement. “No body capacity?” he asked. “Nope,” came the reply; “new kink in shielding I worked out.” Then as Stan stooped and peered into the frame, a puzzled look on his face: “No need of looking for metallic shields, because there aren’t any. Just something I happened to stumble on: reducing everything as much as possible to ground potential.” Stan smiled, and put out his hand. “I’ll have to hand it to you, old kid,” he said. “I can supply the practical experience, but you certainly were born with all the brains and genius for both of us.” He began turning the loop slowly, pausing whenever Dick signified for him to do so, and in such a manner that the focus of the parabola moved in a great circle from the south to the east--counter-clockwise, in other words. First a small station in New Mexico, then El Paso, and finally Chicago and New York swung in, loud enough to be just comfortable in the telephones. The two young men smiled into each other’s eyes, contentedly, experiencing the joy of a dream come true and appreciating the beautiful creation on the work bench as only one can appreciate modern wireless telegraphy who has followed the art from its coherer stage. Dick snapped off the tubes, and the two removed their head-sets. * * * * * “Some set!” said Dick, the student. “Some set!” agreed Stan, the good fellow, sensing the coming of one of the friendly arguments, more or less one-sided, which they frequently indulged in. Sure enough, Dick frowned at him (his method of collecting his thoughts) and began: “This set is appallingly stupid and simple, isn’t it?” “No, it isn’t!” snapped back Stan. “It’s complicated as the devil.” The fray was on.