DISTANCE LENDS ENCHANTMENT
Mr. Hooper, his nephew, his daughter and another girl, fat and dumpy,
were at the power site before two o'clock, and without more ado Bill
asked Gus to bring the transit to the comparatively level field on top
of the hill.
"Now, Mr. Hooper, please don't think we're doing this in a spirit of
idle controversy; we only want to show you something interesting."
"That's all right, lad; an' I ain't above learnin', old as I am. But
Thad here, he's different." Mr. Hooper gave Bill and Gus a long wink.
"Thad, he don't reckon he can be learned a thing, an' he's so blame
sure--say, Thad, how 'bout that bet?"
"We don't want to bet anything; that only--" began Bill, but Gus was
less pacific.
"Put up, or shut up," he said, drawing a borrowed five dollar note out
of his pocket and glaring at Thad. The slim youth did not respond.
"He's afraid to bet," jeered the daughter. "Hasn't got the nerve, or the
money."
"I ain't afraid to bet." Thad brought forth a like amount in bills.
"Uncle'll hold the stakes. You got to tell how far it is from here to
the house without ever stepping the distance."
"We'll make a more simple demonstration than that," Bill declared.
"It'll be the same thing and take less time and effort. Mr. Hooper, take
some object out there in the field; something that we can see;
anything."
"Here, Gracie, you take a stake there an' go out yan an' stick it up.
Keep a-goin' till I holler."
Both girls carried out these directions, the fat one falling down a
couple of times, tripped by the long grass and getting up shaking with
laughter. The boys were to learn that she was a chum of Grace Hooper,
that her name was Sophronia Doyle, though commonly nicknamed "Skeets."
The stake was placed. Bill drove another at his feet, set the transit
over it, peeped through it both ways and at his direction, after
stretching the steel tape, Gus drove a third stake exactly sixty feet
from the transit at an angle of ninety degrees from a line to the field
stake.
"Now, folks," explained Bill, "the stake out yonder is A, this one is B
and the one at the other end of the sixty-foot base line is C. Please
remember that."
The transit was then placed exactly over the stake C and, peeping again,
Bill found the angle from the base line to the stake B and the line to
stake A to be 78 degrees. Thereupon Gus produced a long board, held up
one end and rested the other on a stake, while Bill went to work with a
six-foot rule, a straight edge and a draughtsman's degree scale. Bill
elucidated:
"Now, then, to get out of figuring, which is always hard to understand,
we'll just lay the triangulation out by scale, which is easily
understood. One-eighth of an inch equals one foot. This point is stake B
and the base line to C is this line at right angles, or square across
the board. C stake is 7-1/2 inches from B which is equal to sixty feet
on the scale, that is sixty one-eighth inches. Now, this line, parallel
to the edge of the board, is the exact direction of your stake A. Do you
all follow that?
"The direction to your stake was 78 degrees from the base line at C.
This degree scale will give us that." Bill carefully centered the latter
instrument, sharpened his pencil and marked the angle; then placing the
straight edge on the point C and the degree mark he extended the line
until it crossed the other outward line. At this crossing he marked a
letter A and turned to his auditors.
"This is your stake out yonder. The rule shows it to be a little over
34-5/8 inches from the base line at B. That is, by the scale, a few
inches over 277 feet and that is the distance from here to where Grace
stuck it into the ground. Our hundred-foot steel tape line is at your
service, Mr. Hooper."
Mr. Hooper merely glanced at Bill. He took up the tape line and spoke to
his nephew. "Git a holt o' this thing, Thad, an' let's see if--"
Grace interrupted him. "No, Dad; never let Thad do it! He'd make some
mistake accidentally on purpose. I'll help you."
There was utter silence from all while Grace carried out the end of the
tape and placed her sticks, Mr. Hooper following after. Skeets borrowed
a pencil and a bit of paper from Gus and went along with Grace to keep
tally, but she dropped the pencil in the grass, stepped on and broke it,
was suffused with embarrassment and before she could really become
useful, the father and daughter had made the count mentally and they
came back to the base line, still without saying a word, a glad smile on
the girl's face and something between wonder and surprise on the old
man's features.
Still without a word Mr. Hooper came straight to Bill, thrust out his
big hand to grasp that of the smiling boy and in the other hand was held
the bills of the wager, which he extended toward Gus.
"Yours, lad," he said. "We made the distance two hundred and
seventy-eight foot. I reckon you git the money."
Thad stood for a moment, nonplussed, a scowl on his face. Suddenly he
recovered.
"Hold on! That's more than they said it was. The money's mine."
"Shucks, you dumb fool! Maybe a couple o' inches. I reckon we made the
mistake, fer we wasn't careful. It gits me they was that near it. The
cash is his'n."
Gus took the bills, thrust his own into his pocket again and handed the
two dollar note and the three ones to Skeets.
"Please give them to him for me," indicating Thad, "I don't want his
money."
"Not I," said the fat girl; "it isn't my funeral. Let him do the weeping
and you take and give them to the poor."
Gus offered them to Grace, who also refused, shaking her head. Bill took
the bills, and, limping over to Thad, handed him his wager. "You mustn't
feel sore at us," counseled the youthful engineer. "This was only along
the lines of experiment and--and fun."
But though Bill meant this in the kindliest spirit of comradeship, the
boy sensed a feeling of extreme animosity that he was at a loss to
account for. Bill backed off, further speech toward conciliation
becoming as lame as his leg. The others witnessed this and Grace said,
quite heatedly:
"Oh, you can't make a silk purse out of a pig's ear. Thad's an incurable
grouch," at which Skeets laughed till she shook, and Mr. Hooper nodded
his head.
"Lad," he said, "you're a wonder an' I ain't got no more to say ag'in'
your doin' this work here. Go ahead with it your own way. But this I am
abossin': to-morrow's half day, I reckon, so both o' you come over to
the house nigh 'long about noon an' set at dinner with us. You're more'n
welcome."