“Why hadn’t we been able to communicate with any of the other planets? Were they so far ahead of us in their development that they had forgotten how to make our foolishly elementary kinds of receiving sets? Was it a mere question of wave lengths? Of distance? Or had our system of radio reception perhaps developed along entirely different lines than theirs? Had they used some principle entirely foreign to the electron theory in their radio work--say some unknown projector ray or light repulsion of the sort which makes the tail of a comet point always away from the sun? It seemed possible, even probable. Then I asked myself what medium of language an exterior planet would use in an attempt at communication, and two things immediately suggested themselves: geometry and music! That latter made me think of you again, so because it was the last thing in my train of thought--you were the last thing, I mean--I decided to call you responsible for the whole works--the receiving set on the bench, which is what you want to hear about, of course. I ought to be ashamed of myself for boring you.” Stan protested. “Dick,” he said, rising and grasping his friend by the hand, “I don’t know whether you know it or not, but you’re a genius. I’m proud to know you.” Dick Jarvis blushed. “Thanks, Stan,” he said, quietly, and rushed into a hurried discussion of the invention that rested before him, in an attempt to cover his embarrassment. A rare thing, indeed, when in college an athlete deigns to give such praise to one of those who are considered miserable “grinds”, though it is indeed true that the grinds usually end up by doing more for the world. All the more credit, then, to that great connecting link of modern America, the radio, which makes all men kin. “You see, Stanley,” Dick continued, “that idea of Martian ray propulsion sort of got me, and I kept asking myself if we didn’t have something similar to it here on Earth. There seemed to be something in the back of my head which said we did--a sort of mind-picture of just what I was seeking, yet although I was on the verge of it several times I couldn’t seem to quite visualize the thing. Finally I woke up one night with the answer, and the name of the thing on my lips--it was a common X-ray tube. I got up out of bed and started work, and for a month, steadily, I’ve worked every available minute that I could spare from my studies.” “But--” Stan broke in, impulsively, “why didn’t you let me help you? I would have been only too glad--” “I know you would have been, Stan. You’re good about those things. But you will have done more than your share if this thing works, tonight, by just having been here. I may need you for a witness, some day. Now, where was I? Oh, yes--the ray.