"Then do it some time. It's the champion mystery of the world. No man knows how it works. We know it furnishes us with names and places, facts and figures and events without limit, and they come to us instantaneously without waiting to be called. A thousand telegraph clerks with an acre of pigeon holes could not accomplish in an hour what your memory does in a second. It is quicker than greased lightning. It's the miracle of miracles. Why, Luther, these thought waves of mine, compared with it, are so simple and so easy that any normal baby could operate them." "I guess you are right." After a few more words, this conversation ended, and Luther departed. But Dr. Alton and Cyrus sat a long time on the little porch talking seriously of the Great Discovery. But the inventor, later that afternoon, was not too much absorbed in electric wonders to visit a corner at the end of the garden. There he straightened up a slab that marked a grave. The slab was of wood. He brushed the surface with careful hands and read the letters he himself had carved nine years before. HeRe Lies Zac ALton He Was VeRY SmARt and ALSO GooD These lines Cyrus always read with a smile--not of mirth, but of satisfaction with their truth and justice to his old friend's character. Pleasant indeed were those memories!--lively and bounding memories: of adoration for himself and of unswerving loyalty to the final breath of a short but joyous life. [Illustration] X THE FARTHEST TRAVELER One sultry morning about six weeks later, Luther Dean got off a train at Springfield. Along the shady side of the main street he walked. He walked faster than usual. His eyes, his hot, perspiring face and general manner showed suppressed excitement. And why not? Wealth, and without labor, would soon be his. A few blocks from the station he turned into another street, then, not far from the corner he entered a small shop. On the front window of the shop were these words: I. KATZ ELECTRICAL CONTRACTOR The brevity of his name, as here shown, gave as much pleasure to the proprietor as he had suffered annoyance from his fuller and more various name, Isidore Pollacksek Zwillenberg Stchcrbatcheff Katz. And even his last little name had proved almost a curse, as his intimates called him "Malty" and "Puss Katz"; also "Tom Katz" and "How Many." But I. Katz, of black eyes and muddy complexion, was an ambitious young man, industrious, surprisingly clever, watchful and polite. He and Luther Dean had one desire in common--an unquenchable thirst for wealth. There was, however, this important difference, that Katz was willing to work for it, while Luther regarded thirst as a substitute for effort.