"Mere hewers of wood and drawers of water," repeated the pure scientist with disdain, "let them serve truth and searchers after truth; for knowledge is power and the truth shall make us free." "Free of what?" asked Gud. But the paleontologist did not answer, for he had spied another bit of fossilized ectoplasm and was readjusting his confounded monocle so that he might examine it, to see if it were part of the fragment of the soul of the infant prodigy who had mastered calculus before it cut its canine teeth, or merely another piece of that soul of the man who had gone spiritually to pieces when he met his fame. Alas, it was neither but something worse, and so Gud asked what it was. "It is the fragment," replied the paleontologist, "of the soul of an old maid who committed suicide because she could not live in eternal doubt." "And what did she doubt?" asked Gud. "Her virtue." "And why did she doubt that?" "Because she suffered from a dual personality complicated by amnesia." "Oh, I see," said Gud, "she wanted to know how the other half lived." "No, no," protested the fossil collector, "she was not a sociologist but one of the minor female poets who specialize in ballads in the romantic manner. See, here is one of her manuscripts that she had translated so that she could take it with her." "Translated into what?" asked Gud. "Into spirit language," said the paleontologist, "and if you read it you will see for yourself how very spiritual it is." Gud took the poem and glanced at the first line. "Pardon me," he said, "but is there a graveyard handy?" "As you should judge for yourself," replied the paleontologist, "from the number of bones I have been digging up, this place itself was once a graveyard." "All things that were can be again," said Gud, as he turned back the wheel of time until he came into the graveyard as it was in the days of its prosperity. Seeing that he was in the respectable part of the graveyard, Gud hastened to walk down the hill to the less respectable portion. Experience had taught him that in the part of a graveyard where rich men are buried he was likely to be annoyed by relatives who felt they had been cheated in the wills and were anxious to have resurrections performed. As Gud strolled through the disreputable portion of the cemetery he came upon a man who was sitting on a grave and weeping bitterly. Chapter LIX The Gods of the Gallows ride tonight Their shadowy faces spotted white. The creature who watches through the bars Hears every footfall under the stars. The gods of the gallows need no rest-- They ride like chieftains--twelve abreast. And now they have vanished, leaving hope, And a thing that hangs at the end of a rope.