"But what about the old ones?" Owen retorted.
"Strong and Rohrer can beat it, and Benton probably, but that was your first attempt. You can improve on that."
"So can a lot of other fellows. Here, let me through! I've got to get home and finish an original."
But Salter still blocked the way. "What is it? Tell me and I'll start you on it."
Owen gaped incredulous. "You couldn't do it offhand!"
"I'll have a try at it," said Salter. "Look here, will you drop this quitter's talk about not running if I do the trick?"
Rob hesitated. He knew little of Salter personally, but on general principles he felt himself safe. No fellow could know the whole four hundred and fifty originals in the plane geometry, and if Salter was like the average sport he couldn't know a dozen. Besides, Salter's geometry dated from the preceding year. To accept would be the easiest way to get rid of him.
"All right," he rejoined, smiling, "but it's like getting money for nothing." He stated the theorem slowly and distinctly, so as to take no unfair advantage. "Want it repeated?" he asked, leering triumphantly into the serious face of his companion, whose knitted brow and abstracted expression showed that he was thinking hard.
"No, I don't," replied the senior, suddenly breaking into a satisfied grin. "It's too dead easy. Look here!"
He drew forth a block of paper from one pocket, a fountain pen from another, with a single flourish of the pen made an almost perfect circle on the paper, and rapidly threw in chords and tangents and added letters.