Evening Republican, Volume 20, Number 271, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 11 November 1916 — The Problem [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

The Problem

By FRANK FILSON

t r t ■ ■ . (Copyright, 1»16. by W. O. Chapman.) Jacques Dubonnet, once professor of mathematics in the University of Lyons, looked through his trench periscope and Black with rich Flanders mud, dish’eveled, with grubby nails and a sky-blue uniform barely distinguishable under the various kinds of clay that covered it, he looked like anything except wjjat he had been. His fat body shook with fear as he watched the periscopes along the German trench opposite him. He wiped the sweat from his forehead, leaving the trail of a grimy hand there. “Pestel I am not a soldier, I am a professor,” he said. “I am a cow’ard. Why could they not have set me an easier and cleaner job than this one?” An expansive smile broke over his face.

“Why did they not set me to solving the problem of the relation of the radii of a circle drawn within an isohedrous triangle tangental to a fixed point on a parabola?” he asked. Fifty yards „ distant Tians Ernest Muller looked through his periscope toward the French trenches and groaned in bitterness of spirit. Dressed in his gray-green uniform, his stout form hardly covered by the ill-fitting clothing, he looked more like a ragpicker than an ex-professor of Jena.

“Himmel, I wish I had that fellow Dubonnet here,” he said. “He, who thinks he has solved the problem on which we were both working at the outbreak of the war, of the relation of the radii of a circle drawn within an isohedrous triangle tangental to a fixed point on a parabola !” Seized with a sudden idea, born, perhaps, of weeks of inaction, the proses-

sor picked up a sheet of board and a charcoal pencil, such as was kept handy for writing insulting messages to be displayed to the foemen opposite, and began to sketch out his circle and triangle. Fifty yards away Professor Dubonnet was suddenly taken wlth’an idea. Perhaps it was a case of thought transference; perhaps the Inaction of trench life had stimulated his thinking faculties. At any rate, he wrote hurriedly upon a miniature blackboard, with a piece of white chalk kept handy for writing insulting messages to the enemy across the barbed wire opposite. While these two great minds were at work, other minds were laboring under different problems. “Have you got your men ready?” Inquired Captain Dupont of the young lieutenant in the section of the trench where Dubonnet was actively mapping out his mathematical, campaign. “Yes, sir. But that fellow Dubonnet —I dbn’t know what to do with him. Look at him notv! He’s drawing diagrams and seems totally Ignorant that a charge is about to begin.” “Leave the poor devil. He’d only discourage the rest,” the captain answered. In the trenches opposite Captain Schmidt was twirling his mustache fiercely as he addressed Lieutenant Schwartz. ' “The shelling has ceased; I think the French are going to charge,” he said. “Are your men ready?” “All except that fool of a Muller,” replied the young officer, r “I don’t know what to do with him. Look at him now, scribbling there as if the •war was over, or hadn’t begun.” “Leave him alone. Perhaps he’ll get killed and we’ll be rid of him,” the other answered. At that moment a whistle blew in the trenches opposite. The French scrambled over the parapet of their trench, and, with fikCp bayonets, rushed madly forward, i The Germans, equally rip to receive ithem. In a few seconds (the two line*

were inextricably interwoven. To and fro they swayed upon the parapet of the German trench. ’ Professor Dubonnet, wholly forgetful of the signs of battle, worked busily at his .problem. He had a new solution which had never occurred to him before. If it was tangental to a fixed point-on a parabola, would not Epperman’s formula solve the whole difficulty? Herr Muller, formerly professor at Jena, had a brilliant Inspiration. The relation of the radii must vary in Inverse relationship to the segment in-

tersected by the . , . no, there he had got off the track. He bent, frowning, to his work. The body of a dead soldier dropped with a thud into the trench beside him. He shook his head Impatiently. “A little less noise, please, gentlemen,” he muttered. "Do not slam the door when you go out, even if you disapprove of my exposition.” He had stood up as if in the class room, and was now declaiming violently, the piece of board in his hand. The struggle had moved away from 'him, and by luck none of the flying bullets came his way. “I have it!” shrieked Professor Dubonnet. “Epperman’s formula has solved the problem.” He sprang to his feet. “This means the opening of a new era In mathematics!” lie qrled. “What wouldn’t I give to see that ass Muller now, who thinks he has the solutionl”

At that moment, to his amazement, he saw Muller’s face across the intervening space. He raised his fist and shook it angrily. The movement caught Muller’s eye. “Gentlemen, please be less violent In your disapproval,” he said. “I cannot hope to carry conviction at the first attempt. Copernicus, as you art aware —” 1 He paused and looked about him. “But where am I?” he inquired. “There seems to be some disturbance —”

At That Instant he saw Dubonnet running at full speed across the intervening ground. Meanwhile the Germans, repulsed from their trench, had withdrawn, and the French were following them, firing and hurling bombs. “It is you, scoundrel!” screamed Professor. Muller, shaking his fist at_ his enemy. “Is it not enough that you should oppose the march of mathematics, but you must also create a disturbance in my classroom?” With a yell Dubonnet leaped into the trench. “It’s Epperman’s formula,” he shouted. “I tell you Epperman’s does it.” “Nonsense. You can’t solve it by a formula,” said Muller. “Don’t you see it depends upon the relationship of —• ugh 1” He rolled over, still clutching the board, as a spent bullet struck him in the ribs.

At the same Instant both men realized what had occurred. They were in the midst of a battle. Dubonnet leaned over the German. “Muller! You must not die!” he shouted. “Tell me your solution. Tell me. Where are the police? The doctors?” In an agony }of terror lest death should rob him of his triumph he raised Muller In his arms and began to puff his way back toward the lines. Once, when the weight became too heavy, he stopped. “Will you tell me your solution, or shall I throw a bayonet—l mean a bomb—at you?” he demanded. “No, no. I tell you,” Muller grunted.

“To you, Dubonnet, for having saved the life of an enemy at the great risk of your own, is awarded the Medal of Honor." said the commander in chief. He kissed him on both cheeks and pinned the ribbon upon his breast. The medal w’as a circle, and the loops, of ribbon formed an isohedrous triangle. Dubonnet stared at it. “I knew the government would recognize my work some day,” he muttered. Then, with supreme generosity, “With your permission, I shall bestow this upon Professor Muller.”

“Pestel I am Not a Soldier, I am a Professor.”