"That's easy," laughed Bert. "You just stand up there, Dick, and give me a baseball and let me hit you with it. If it kills you, we will know it was going pretty fast, but if it just cripples you, we will be forced to the conclusion that the ball wasn't traveling so very fast, after all." "Yes, that certainly is a brilliant idea," snorted Dick, "and there is only one thing that keeps me from doing it. If, as you say, it should kill me, you fellows would have settled the question, all right, but then it would be too late for me to share in the knowledge. Therefore, I guess we'll leave the question open for the present." "Aw, gee, Dick," laughed one of the others, "you certainly have a mean disposition. Here you are in college, and yet you evidently haven't enough of the college spirit to make a sacrifice of yourself for the general good. Besides, it doesn't show the scientific desire for knowledge that we would like to see in you, does it, fellows?" appealing to the laughing group. Everybody seemed to think the same thing, judging from the unanimous chorus of assent to this speech, but, strange to say, Dick proved very obstinate, and refused to offer his services in the capacity of official tester. "But seriously, fellows," said one of the boys, John Bennett by name, "I don't see why we couldn't do something of the kind. I shouldn't think it would be so hopeless, after all." At first they thought he was joking, but when they realized that he was in earnest, a chorus of ridicule arose. Bennett refused to be hooted down, however, and finally managed to get a hearing. "You see, it's this way," he explained: "My father, as you all know, manufactures guns and rifles of all descriptions. Now, some people with a little more sense in their noodles than you poor boobs," with a sarcastic inflection, "have asked what the speed of a rifle bullet was, and what's more, have managed to find out. Going on the same principle, I don't see why we couldn't find out the speed of a baseball." "How do they find that out?" asked one, unbelievingly, "a rifle bullet has been known to go pretty fast at times, you know." "You don't mean it, do you?" asked Bennett, sarcastically. "I always thought bullets crept along the ground something after the manner of snails, or something equally fast, didn't you fellows?" "Go on, go on," they laughed, "if you've got an idea in what you call your brain, for heaven's sake get it out before you forget it. Go on and tell us how it is that they measure the speed of a bullet."