FOR the first time in my life I began fully to realize what a vast advance had been made when man stepped from the bronze to the iron age, and how each step in man’s progress had made the next step easier and greater. When at last I had made steel, I could foresee machinery, steam engines, yes, even electricity, and in my day dreams I could visualize the valley humming with industry, with mills, factories, perhaps a railway and even motor propelled vehicles. Anything seemed within the bounds of possibility, and only patience and time were needed to make such visions come true. But time was what I most sincerely hoped I would _not_ have. And, after all, I wondered, would such things really be a blessing or a curse to the people? Were they any better off, any happier with their wheeled vehicles, their wind and water power than they had been before? I could not see that they were. Their every need, every want had been fully satisfied; their lives had been busy, happy, content, and I could not for the life of me see whereby I had in the least degree added to their happiness and well-being by teaching them what I had. But I must qualify that. One thing I had shown them--perhaps the simplest of all--had undoubtedly benefited them. This was the means of making fire by flint and steel. Hitherto their only means of kindling fire had been by patiently rubbing two sticks together by means of a bow-drill, and the primitive flint and steel was a veritable godsend to them. I had thought, when I first demonstrated the method, that they would regard it as a divine or supernatural thing, but I was vastly mistaken. The stone and the metal were natural products, and while they marveled at my ability or superior knowledge in knowing how to produce fire by striking the two together, they accepted it much as they had accepted iron. It must not be thought that I devoted all my time and energies to my experiments and mechanical contrivances. I had my religious duties to attend to, I explored the valley--and in so doing proved to my satisfaction that there was no egress other than by the Bridge of Light; I visited and talked with the people, I spent many hours with Nohul Voh, and, of course, I devoted much of my time to Itza. She was very anxious to learn my language, and she, like all her race, being a born linguist and exceedingly quick to learn anything, proved a most apt pupil and rapidly learned to speak, read and write English. Very delightful were the hours I devoted to teaching her, reproving her for her mistakes by kisses, laughing merrily with her over her funny efforts to pronounce the new sounds, guiding her little fingers as she tried to form the various strange characters.