Soma gathered
in some easily earned shillings by raking his mind in search of
traditions and retailing them to the scientist by the light of the fire.
He made magazine prices for tales that he spun from his fertile brain,
and the Professor could hardly write fast enough in the excitement
brought about by the discovery of so much historical knowledge.
"It is wonderful!" he cried, pausing for a moment to polish the thick
lenses of his glasses upon the end of his silk coat. "The chance of
enlightening the world upon this subject is one that I would not have
missed for a million dollars."
"The dollars for me," murmured Holman. "I don't think the old world
cares three cents about anything that happened a thousand years ago in
this patch."
The Professor adjusted his glasses and turned them upon the doubter for
the space of three minutes, but Holman was blissfully ignorant of the
look which the angry archaeologist favoured him with. The youngster was
watching the firelight upon the face of Miss Barbara Herndon, and his
thoughts were probably in a dream-fed future instead of a dismal past.
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