Cyrus understood, but his face showed no annoyance. Smilingly he said, "You will get more digestible answers, perhaps, if you don't ask me where I found it. The whole adventure is incredible. If I told you the truth you would not believe me." "Try us," said William. The Senior Partner waved his hand in apology. "Please don't think we doubt your word, Mr. Alton. But when you say older than human history you are speaking figuratively, as it were." "No, sir. I am speaking literally. It is the belief of scientists that millions of years have passed since any changes have occurred in that--in that--territory." "Millions of years!" "Yes, sir. It is somewhat a matter of geology. And a geological period, you know, is still young at a million years." The Senior Partner nodded politely. "Yes--very true. But, as diamonds are found in so few places perhaps you will tell us, just to gratify a natural curiosity, what kind of a region you have discovered--the general nature of the country." "The nature of the country?" Cyrus Alton repeated. Then, lowering his eyes, as if better to recall the scene, he hesitated for a moment. "The nature of the country," he again repeated, and his manner became serious. "No tree, nor bush, nor blade of grass is there; no living thing of any kind: no birds--nor air to fly in;--not a drop of water. The surface of the earth--no, not earth for there is no earth--is stone--and ashes. 'Tis a cinder--the mummy of a world: an unending necropolis. Once it was thickly populated. Now it is the Land of Death, and deader than Death itself. Not even a memory is there, for those who might remember have been dead uncounted ages. They themselves are long since forgotten." On the faces of his little audience Cyrus saw a mild bewilderment--and curiosity. "You say we have all heard of this country?" asked the Senior Partner. "Yes, and you have seen it--from a distance." "Are you sure," said William, "that we have all seen it?" "Yes, absolutely sure." "And we have probably been there?" "No--I think not." "Then, how could we see it?--from a railway train--or from a steamship?" Cyrus smiled. "Yes, you could see it that way--if you wished." "But how do you know we have never been there?" "I don't." "You only think it." "Yes, I only think it. You may have been there. I am quite sure, however, that you have not." "But why so sure, Cyrus? You have been there yourself." "Yes." "And what man has done man can do." "Yes, sometimes, but not always, Billy. Only one man has eaten, for instance, a certain huckleberry. And, as a rule, only one man marries his own particular girl. You, for instance, have seen the top of Trinity spire, but you have never been there." "You may as well say I have seen the moon, but never been there." Cyrus laughed, quite a hearty little laugh, as if thoroughly amused. "Well I do say it. And it's true, isn't it?" "Yes, but it has no relation to the argument."