Buck noticed their amused expression, and his coarse face grew red
and mottled.

"Well," he demanded, "what have you got to say to that? Am I right
or ain't I?"

"You're wrong," replied Joe promptly. "Dead wrong. You're so far
from the truth that you couldn't see it with a telescope. You're
talking like a ham sandwich."

"Look out what you're saying, Joe Atwood, or I'll make you sorry
for it," threatened Buck, as he clinched his fist, an ugly look
coming into his eyes.

"I apologize," said Joe. "That is, I apologize to the ham
sandwich."

Bob laid a restraining hand on his friend's arm.

"Easy, Joe," he counseled. "Listen, Buck," he went on. "Did you ever
hear of Marconi?"

"Sure, I did," replied Buck. "He's the fellow that had the fight
with Julius Caesar. The one that Cleopatra was dippy about."

"No," said Bob patiently. "You're thinking of Mark Antony. He's been
dead for more than eighteen hundred years. The man I mean is a very
live one. He's the inventor of wireless telegraphy."