Bert Wilson's Fadeaway Ball

by Mrs. Molesworth

  CHAPTER VIII

  SHOOTING THEM OVER

  Bert and Dick and some of the other fellows were having a discussion.They had been talking on various topics, and, as was usually the case,the talk had drifted around to baseball. They had discussed the game proand con, when Dick said:

  "I wonder how fast a pitcher really can throw a ball, anyway. Of course,there's no possibility of such a thing, but it certainly would beinteresting, if we could measure the speed of a pitched ball, and settlethe question once and for all."

  "That's easy," laughed Bert. "You just stand up there, Dick, and give mea baseball and let me hit you with it. If it kills you, we will know itwas going pretty fast, but if it just cripples you, we will be forced tothe conclusion that the ball wasn't traveling so very fast, after all."

  "Yes, that certainly is a brilliant idea," snorted Dick, "and there isonly one thing that keeps me from doing it. If, as you say, it shouldkill me, you fellows would have settled the question, all right, butthen 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 meandisposition. Here you are in college, and yet you evidently haven'tenough of the college spirit to make a sacrifice of yourself for thegeneral good. Besides, it doesn't show the scientific desire forknowledge that we would like to see in you, does it, fellows?" appealingto the laughing group.

  Everybody seemed to think the same thing, judging from the unanimouschorus of assent to this speech, but, strange to say, Dick proved veryobstinate, and refused to offer his services in the capacity of officialtester.

  "But seriously, fellows," said one of the boys, John Bennett by name, "Idon't see why we couldn't do something of the kind. I shouldn't think itwould be so hopeless, after all."

  At first they thought he was joking, but when they realized that he wasin earnest, a chorus of ridicule arose. Bennett refused to be hooteddown, 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 witha little more sense in their noodles than you poor boobs," with asarcastic 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 bullethas been known to go pretty fast at times, you know."

  "You don't mean it, do you?" asked Bennett, sarcastically. "I alwaysthought bullets crept along the ground something after the manner ofsnails, or something equally fast, didn't you fellows?"

  "Go on, go on," they laughed, "if you've got an idea in what you callyour brain, for heaven's sake get it out before you forget it. Go on andtell us how it is that they measure the speed of a bullet."

  "Well, it's this way," said Bennett, "they arrange an electric wire infront of the muzzle of the gun, so that as the bullet comes out it isbound to break it. Then, the object at which the gun is aimed is alsoconnected up by electricity. Observe, gentlemen, what happens when thegun is discharged. The bullet, as it saunters from the gun, cuts theelectric wire, and by so doing registers the exact fraction of a secondthat this happens. When it hits the target, a similar process takesplace, and then of course it is a simple matter to subtract the timethe bullet left the gun from the time it hit the target, and thus,gentlemen, we arrive at the result, namely, the time it took the bulletto go across the intervening distance. I trust, gentlemen (and others),that I have made myself perfectly clear."

  "Aw," spoke up one of the fellows, popularly known as "Curley," "whocouldn't think of a simple thing like that. The only reason that Ididn't think of it right off was that it was too easy for me even toconsider."

  "Oh, sure, we all understand that perfectly," replied Bennett, "but,seriously, fellows, if you would care to try the experiment, I am surethat my father would help us all he could. It wouldn't be any trick atall for him to rig up something on the same principle that would give usan accurate idea of how fast Bert, for instance, could propel a baseballthrough the surrounding atmosphere. Say the word, and I'll write to himabout it to-night. We ought to hear from him by the day after to-morrow,at the latest."

  Bert saw that Bennett was in earnest, and so said:

  "It certainly would be very interesting, old man. I've often wonderedjust what speed I was capable of, and I don't see why your planshouldn't be feasible. What do you think, Dick?"

  "I think it would be well worth the try, at all events," replied Dick,"and say, fellows, while we were about it, Bennett's father might bewilling to show us over the factory and give us an idea of how the gunsare made. Do you think he would, old top?" addressing Bennett.

  "Surest thing you know," responded the latter, heartily. "I know hewould be glad to have you come, even if you are a bunch of bums,"smilingly.

  "All right, we'll consider that settled, then," said Bert. "You write tohim right away, and we'll try our little experiment as soon as possible.Believe me, I'm anxious to try it. I sure would like to know."

  Thus the matter was settled, and after a little more talk and speculationon the same subject, the boys dispersed to their rooms to preparerecitations for the morrow.

  A day or so later, when some of them had forgotten about the proposedtest, Bennett came up to the group assembled in Bert's and Dick's room,and said:

  "See here, fellows! What did I tell you? I just received this letterfrom dad, and he says to go as far as we like. He says that he spoke ofthe matter to the foreman of the testing department, and he thinks ourplan is feasible."

  "Gee, that's fine," exclaimed Tom, who was of the group. "How long didhe think it would be before he would be ready?"

  "Oh, pretty near any time that we could get to the factory. Of course,it will take him a few days to rig up the apparatus, but he says he willhave it ready by next Saturday, and as that is a holiday for most of us,I think it would be a good time to go. How would that suit you, Bert?"

  "First rate," replied Bert, "I'll take it as easy as I can this week inthe line of pitching, so that I will have full strength for the test.I'll have to establish a record," laughingly.

  "I'll tell you what we can do," said Walter Harper, one of the "subs" onthe team, "let's get up a race between Bert's baseball and a bullet. Ithink that Bert ought to beat a bullet easily."

  "Well," laughed Bert, "maybe I can't exactly beat a bullet, but I'll betmy ball will have more curve on it than any bullet ever invented."

  "That reminds me of a story I heard the other day," spoke up one. "Thefather of a friend of mine went out to hunt deer last fall. He had fairluck, but everybody was talking about a deer that had been fooling allthe hunters for several seasons. It seems that this deer was such anexpert dodger, that when anyone started to shoot at him he would runaround in circles and thus avoid the bullet. Well, my friend's fatherthought over the matter for a long time, and finally hit on a plan tooutwit the deer. Can you guess how he did it?"

  Many were the schemes offered by the ingenious listeners, but none ofthem seemed satisfactory. Finally all gave up the problem, and beggedthe story teller to give them the explanation.

  "Well," he said, "it's very simple, and I'm surprised and grieved thatnone of you fatheads have thought of it. Why, he simply bent the barrelof the gun around, so that when the bullet came out it chased the deeraround in circles, and killed him without any trouble. Now----" but herehe was interrupted by a storm of indignant hoots and hisses, and rushedfrom the room amid a perfect shower of books of all descriptions.

  "Gee," said Tom, "I've heard some queer hunting stories, but that onewas the limit. Many a man has died for less."

  "Oh, well, he's more to be pitied than scorned," laughed Dick, and theyproceeded to discuss the details of Saturday's trip.

  "It will be no end of fun, I can promise you," said Bennett. "It'sreally an education in i
tself to go through that factory and see the waythings are done. You can bet there's no time or effort wasted there.Everything is figured down to the very last word for efficiency, and ifall the world were run on the same basis it would be a pretty fine placeto live in."

  "List to the philosopher, fellows," said Bert. "I'm afraid Bennett'sstudies are going to his head, and he's actually beginning to believewhat the profs tell him."

  "That is indeed a sign of failing mental powers," laughed Tom. "I'mafraid that if we don't do something for our poor friend, he willdegenerate until finally he becomes nothing but a 'greasy grind.' Afterthat, of course, he can sink no lower."

  "Aw, you fellows think you're funny, don't you," grunted Bennett,disgustedly, "you're such boneheads that when somebody with real brains,like myself, for instance, gets off a little gem of thought you areabsolutely incapable of appreciating it."

  "Fellows," said Bert, gravely, "we have made an important discovery.Bennett has brains. We know this is so, because he himself admits it.Well, well, who would have suspected it?"

  This sally was greeted with laughter, but, seeing that Bennett wasbecoming a little angry, Bert changed the subject, and they were soondeep in details of the forthcoming trip. Dick was delegated to buy thetickets, and when all had paid in their money it was seen thattwenty-four were going.

  "That will just be a good crowd," said Bert. "We'll leave here on the9:21 train, and that will take us to W---- at a little after ten. We canlook over the factory in the morning, and tell Mr. Bennett how to runit,"--with a mischievous glance at Bennett, "and in the afternoon,gentlemen, I will make my world renowned attempt to pitch a baseballagainst time. Do you think that will suit your father, John?"

  "Sure, that will be all right," answered Bennett, and so the matter wassettled.

  The following Saturday turned out to be ideal, and everybody was in highspirits when they gathered at the station. They had to wait ten orfifteen minutes for the train, which had been delayed, but they foundplenty to do in the meantime. They sang, played leap frog, and in adozen other ways gave vent to their high spirits. Some of the passengersenvied their light hearts, and remembered the days when they, too, hadbeen full of life and fun, and the world had just been a place to bemerry in.

  The waiting passed like a flash, and before they knew it the train cameinto sight around a curve. When it drew up they all made a rush to geton, and before the train was finally started again had almost driven theconductor frantic.

  "Byes will be byes, though," he grinned to himself, later on, "and bethe same token, Oi don't begrudge the youngsters any of their fun, evenif it did hold the thrain back a full three minutes. Have a good timewhile yer living, says Oi, for yez'll be a long time dead."

  The train fairly flew along, as the engineer was making up for losttime, and it was not long before the conductor sang out, "W----!" andthey had arrived. They all tumbled off, and Tom, to save time, wentthrough the car window.

  "Be gorry, yez are a wild bunch of youngsters," said the old conductorto Bert. "But Oi remember when Oi was a lad Oi was the same way, so Oifergives yez the delays and worriments yez have caused me this day. Havea good toime, and luck be wid yez."

  "Thanks," laughed Bert; "won't you come along?"

  "Thank ye kindly, but Oi guess Oi'll have to deny meself the pleasure,me bye," grinned the conductor, and the train drew out of the station.

  "Gee," said Tom, as he gazed around, "I don't think we'll have muchtrouble locating the factory, Bennett. It seems to be a ratherconspicuous part of the landscape."

  It was, indeed. The whole town was founded on the factory industry,and practically every able-bodied man in the place worked there. Thefactory was an immense six-story affair, with acres and acres of floorspace. All around it were streets lined with comfortable-lookingcottages, in which the workmen lived. Everything had a prosperous andneat appearance, and the boys were agreeably surprised. Most of them hadexpected to see a grimy manufacturing town, and were quite unpreparedfor the clean community they saw spread out before them.

  Bennett headed them straight toward the factory, but as they went alongpointed out features of the town.

  "You see," he explained, "the whole town is practically part of thefactory. When that was established a few houses were built around it,and as the factory grew, the town grew along with it, until now it iswhat you see it. We have one of the biggest gun manufacturing plants inthe world here," he added, proudly.

  "It certainly is some class, John," admitted Bert; "it's bigger andcleaner than I ever expected it would be."

  Soon they had reached the factory itself, and Bennett ushered them intothe office. There they were presented to a gray-haired man whom Johnproudly introduced as his father, and they were made perfectly at home.

  After a little talk, Mr. Bennett pressed a button, and a capable lookingman appeared.

  "Sawkins," said Mr. Bennett, "here are the young men for whom we've beenturning the factory upside down the last few days. Just show themaround, will you, and explain things to them a little."

  "Certainly," acquiesced Sawkins, who was the foreman. "Step right thisway, gentlemen."

  The following two hours were probably among the most interesting any ofthe boys had ever known. The foreman started at the beginning, showingthem the glowing molten metal in immense cauldrons. He was a man ofconsiderable education, and great mechanical ability. He explained everyprocess in words as free as possible of technicalities, and the youngfellows felt that they understood everything that he undertook toexplain. He showed them how the metal was cast, how the guns were boredout, the delicate rifling cut in, and a thousand other details. Hislisteners paid close attention to everything he said, and seeing this,he took extra pains to make everything clear to them. As he said to Mr.Bennett afterward, "It was a pleasure to talk to a bunch of men thatunderstood what was told them."

  Finally they came to the testing room, and this proved, if possible,even more interesting than what had gone before. The foreman showed themthe various ranges, and some of the penetrating feats of which therifles were capable. It was almost unbelievable.

  "See this little toy?" he said, picking out a beautifully made gun froma rack on the wall. "The projectile discharged from this arm willpenetrate over forty-five planks, each one seven-eighths of an inchthick. And then, look at this,"--holding up an ax-head with three cleanholes bored through it--"here's what it can do to tempered steel. Idon't think it would be very healthy to stand in its way."

  "No, I guess it wouldn't," said Dick. "I'd prefer to be somewhere elsewhen one of those bullets was wandering around loose."

  Mr. Sawkins then showed them some photographs of bullets taken while inflight. At first sight this seems an impossibility, but nevertheless itis an accomplished fact. The method used is much the same as JohnBennett has described in the early part of this chapter. As the bulletleaves the gun it cuts a wire, which in turn snaps the shutter of avery high-speed camera. The lenses on a camera of this kind are veryexpensive, a single lens sometimes costing five hundred dollars.

  Then the foreman showed them the apparatus that they had rigged up totest the speed of Bert's pitching. After examining the ingeniousarrangement the boys were lavish in their praise. Mr. Sawkins madelight of this, but it was easy to see that he was pleased.

  "Oh, it's nothing much," he said. "I just fooled around a little bit,and soon had this planned out. It was easy for me, because when I was alittle younger I used to do a little myself in the pitching line on ourlocal team, so I knew about what would be required."

  While they were discussing this, Mr. Bennett strolled in, and asked theenthusiastic group what they thought of what they had seen so far.

  "Gee," said Tom, impulsively, "it certainly is the greatest ever, Mr.Bennett. I never had any idea there was such an awful lot to know aboutgun-making. On thinking it over," he added, laughing, "I don't think ofa single way that we could improve matters; do you, fellows?"

  "You are more modest than my son, then," said
Mr. Bennett, and there wasa twinkle in his eye as he spoke. "Every time John comes here he has alot of ideas that he is sure will better anything we have here atpresent. However, I have just been in this line for the last thirtyyears or so, and so, of course, have lots to learn."

  "Aw, cut it out, Dad," grumbled the younger Bennett. "As far as I canfind out, you've never tried any of the things I've proposed, and so howdo you know how good or bad they are?"

  "Well, the only objection to your plans was that they would generallyhave meant building a new factory to carry them out. Otherwise I have nofault to find with them," returned Mr. Bennett.

  After a little further talk, Mr. Bennett insisted that the boys comehome to his house for luncheon. Needless to say, they had no very strongobjections to this, and were easily persuaded.

  The proprietor's home was a large, comfortable mansion, and the goodcheer offered within carried out the impression received without. Therewas an abundance of good fare, and the young fellows rose from the tableat last with a satisfied air.

  Mr. Bennett had quite a long talk with Bert during the progress of themeal, and seemed very much interested in him. It turned out that Mr.Bennett was quite a baseball enthusiast himself, so he entered heartilyinto Bert's enthusiasm over the game.

  "I used to be quite some player myself when I was your age," he toldBert, "only I used to play a different position. I usually playedcatcher, and was on my team at H----. In those days we never botheredwith catcher's mitts, however, and we catchers worked with bare hands.Once I was catching in this manner, and a ball caught my thumb and halftore it off. I was so excited at the time, though, that I never noticedit, until one of my teammates noticed blood on the ball and called myattention to it. After that, when my thumb healed, you may be sure Icaught with a glove. You can see the scar still," and he showed the boysthe scar of what had evidently been a nasty wound.

  "Well, boys," he said, at the conclusion of this narrative, "what do yousay if we go on back to the factory and make that test of young Wilson'sspeed. I am very much interested, I assure you."

  Of course there were no objections raised to this, and after a pleasantwalk they arrived again at the factory. They proceeded directly to thetesting room, and Bert shed his coat and vest.

  "Come ahead, Dick; you catch for me until I warm up, will you?" he said,and Dick ran to the requisite distance and donned a catcher's mitt thathe had brought along for the purpose. Bert pitched him a few easy balls,and then began to work up a little speed. As he shot them to Dick withever-increasing pace, Mr. Bennett's face lighted up with interest, andfinally he said, "Say, just let me try catching a few, will you, Trent?It's a long time since I've had a catcher's mitt on, but I'd like totake a try at it just for the fun of the thing."

  "Certainly," responded Dick, promptly, and handed his glove to Mr.Bennett. The latter donned it quickly, and punched it a few resoundingblows to "put a hole in it." "All right, my boy," he said, when theglove was prepared to his satisfaction. "Shoot 'em over, and don't beafraid to put some speed into 'em. You can't send them too fast to suitme."

  Bert sent over a few easy ones at first, just to see how Mr. Bennettwould handle them. The latter caught the offerings in a practisedmanner, and said, "Come on, young man, put some whiskers on the ball.That wasn't the best you could do, was it?"

  Bert made no answer to this, but on his next pitch his arm swung aroundlike a flail, and the ball left his hand as though propelled by acatapult. The factory owner managed to catch the ball, but he wrung hishand. "Ouch!" he exclaimed, "that ball stung my hand pretty hard rightthrough the glove."

  Young Bennett laughed in unholy glee, and danced about first on one footand then on the other. "That's one on you, dad," he crowed; "but youought to feel lucky that you even caught the ball. If Bert wanted to, hecould pitch a ball that you couldn't even touch. Give him a fadeaway,Bert."

  "Fadeaway, you say," grunted his father. "There never was a pitcher yetthat could pitch a ball that I couldn't even touch. Give me a sample ofthis wonderful ball, Wilson."

  "All right, sir," said Bert, and grinned. He wound up in the oldfamiliar way that the boys knew so well, and shot over a ball that Mr.Bennett figured was a "cinch." He held his glove in what he thought wasthe proper place, but at the last moment the ball dropped abruptly andswung under the glove, missing it by several inches.

  "Well, I'll be hanged," muttered Mr. Bennett, gazing stupidly at hisglove. He soon recovered himself, however, and handed the glove back toDick. "You've certainly got a wonderful ball there, Wilson," he said."You fooled me very neatly, and I have no excuse to offer." Which showedthe fellows that Mr. Bennett was a "good sport."

  Pretty soon Bert announced himself as ready for the speed test, and Mr.Bennett led the way over to what looked like an empty hoop, but which,upon closer inspection, was seen to be crossed and recrossed by a web offine, hairlike wires.

  "These wires are so connected," explained Mr. Bennett, "that no matterwhere the ball goes, provided, of course, that it goes somewhere insidethe hoop, it will break a wire, and the exact second will be recorded.Then, there is another hoop fifty feet away," pointing to a similarcontrivance nearer the other end of the testing room, "and all you haveto do, Wilson, is to pitch the ball through both hoops. That back hoopis a good deal bigger than any catcher's glove, so you oughtn't to haveany difficulty doing it. Do you think you can manage that all right?"

  "Why, I guess I can do that," replied Bert, and took up his positionabout eight or ten feet this side of the front hoop. Dick tossed him theball, and Bert fitted it carefully in his hand. Then he drew his armback as far as possible, and a second later the ball shot from hisfingers at a terrific pace. It struck almost the exact center of thefirst hoop, parting the fragile wires as though they had been so manycobwebs, and shot through the second hoop about a foot from its edge.

  "Good shot!" exclaimed Mr. Bennett, and he and the foreman hurried tothe recording instruments, and started figuring up the time.

  "Gee, Bert," said Tom, "I don't think I ever saw you pitch a fasterball, 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, "sothere'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 outcomeof the test.

  "You sent that ball at the rate of 114 feet a second, which isequivalent to about eighty-three or eighty-four miles an hour!" heexclaimed. "In other words, you could throw a ball after the TwentiethCentury express traveling at its average speed and overtake it. As youprobably know, any object traveling at a speed of a mile a minutetraverses eighty-eight feet in one second, and it is on this that wehave based our calculations."

  "Say, Bert, that certainly was going some," said Dick, proudly, and theothers were not far behind in congratulating our hero on his trulyastonishing performance. It is safe to say that few professionalpitchers could better Bert's record.

  After the excitement had died down somewhat, John Bennett proposed thatthey have a shooting contest, and his idea met with instant approval.John had had unlimited facilities for perfecting himself in this artsince a boy, however, and outclassed any of the others both at long andshort-distance shooting.

  When they had grown tired of this, it was growing late, and Bertproposed that they return. Needless to say, nobody wanted to go, butthey had no choice, and so proceeded to take their leave. They allthanked 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 thedoor, said, "I'm going to take a holiday and see the next big game inwhich 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 nothingwould give me greater pleasure than to show you over the college afterthe game."

  "Much obliged," replied Mr. Benne
tt, and watched the laughing, singinggroup until it was hidden by a turn in the road.

  The return journey seemed much longer than it had that morning, but theyarrived 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 reachedReddy's ears, he nodded his head sagely.

  "Just make believe I don't know a crack pitcher when I see one," hegrinned to himself.