"Gee, Bert," said Tom, "I don't think I ever saw you pitch a faster ball, even when the team has been in a tight place in the ninth inning. I'd almost swear I saw it smoke as it went through the air." "Well, fast or slow, it was the best I could do, anyway," said Bert, "so there's no use worrying about it." In a short time, Mr. Bennett and the foreman had arrived at a result, and hurried over to where the boys were discussing the probable outcome of the test. "You sent that ball at the rate of 114 feet a second, which is equivalent to about eighty-three or eighty-four miles an hour!" he exclaimed. "In other words, you could throw a ball after the Twentieth Century express traveling at its average speed and overtake it. As you probably know, any object traveling at a speed of a mile a minute traverses eighty-eight feet in one second, and it is on this that we have based our calculations." "Say, Bert, that certainly was going some," said Dick, proudly, and the others were not far behind in congratulating our hero on his truly astonishing performance. It is safe to say that few professional pitchers could better Bert's record. After the excitement had died down somewhat, John Bennett proposed that they have a shooting contest, and his idea met with instant approval. John had had unlimited facilities for perfecting himself in this art since a boy, however, and outclassed any of the others both at long and short-distance shooting. When they had grown tired of this, it was growing late, and Bert proposed that they return. Needless to say, nobody wanted to go, but they had no choice, and so proceeded to take their leave. They all thanked their host heartily, also the good-natured and obliging foreman. Mr. Bennett shook Bert's hand last of all, and as he ushered them to the door, said, "I'm going to take a holiday and see the next big game in which you pitch, Wilson. I'm quite anxious to see you in action." "We'll all be glad to see you, I'm sure," returned Bert, "and nothing would give me greater pleasure than to show you over the college after the game." "Much obliged," replied Mr. Bennett, and watched the laughing, singing group until it was hidden by a turn in the road. The return journey seemed much longer than it had that morning, but they arrived at last, and voted it one of the best days they had ever known. The news of Bert's feat soon spread over the campus, and when it reached Reddy's ears, he nodded his head sagely. "Just make believe I don't know a crack pitcher when I see one," he grinned to himself. CHAPTER IX A GALLANT RESCUE "Say, fellows, what have you got on hand for to-day?" asked Tom, as he burst into the "sanctum-sanctorum," as Bert and Dick called their room, and sank into an easy chair. "Nothing," said Bert, turning from a not too promising survey of the surrounding country, "absolutely and emphatically nothing! This promises to be one of the slowest days in my short and brilliant career----"