King laughed, "What's the use of sticking it out any longer?" he asked. "You've got to give in or starve."
"I'm beginning to think that's so," replied Bob, "I did intend to stick it out, but I'm too hungry."
"That's the way to talk. Now you tell me all about it, and then I'll bring you up a good dinner. But mind now," he added, "if you don't tell it straight, I'll—I'll, well, your folks will never have the pleasure of seeing you again, that's all."
"Well now, see here," began Bob, "I can't tell you how to make that cell so that you could do it."
"Can't? Why not?" demanded King.
"Because," continued Bob, "the success of it depends on the temperature at which the metals composing the caps are put together, and that point can be determined only by the looks of them, and I couldn't possibly describe it so that any one could detect the right point."
"Then how are you going to work it?"
"Why, didn't you say that you have a laboratory in Boston?"
"Yes, but what of it?"
"Well, why not take me there and let me make it for you?"