“'The fleeting systems lapse like foam,'” he mumbled what was evidently a quotation. “That's it--foam, and fleeting. All man's toil upon the planet was just so much foam. He domesticated the serviceable animals, destroyed the hostile ones, and cleared the land of its wild vegetation. And then he passed, and the flood of primordial life rolled back again, sweeping his handiwork away--the weeds and the forest inundated his fields, the beasts of prey swept over his flocks, and now there are wolves on the Cliff House beach.” He was appalled by the thought. “Where four million people disported themselves, the wild wolves roam to-day, and the savage progeny of our loins, with prehistoric weapons, defend themselves against the fanged despoilers. Think of it! And all because of the Scarlet Death--” The adjective had caught Hare-Lip's ear. “He's always saying that,” he said to Edwin. “What is _scarlet?_” “'The scarlet of the maples can shake me like the cry of bugles going by,'” the old man quoted. “It's red,” Edwin answered the question. “And you don't know it because you come from the Chauffeur Tribe. They never did know nothing, none of them. Scarlet is red--I know that.” “Red is red, ain't it?” Hare-Lip grumbled. “Then what's the good of gettin' cocky and calling it scarlet?” “Granser, what for do you always say so much what nobody knows?” he asked. “Scarlet ain't anything, but red is red. Why don't you say red, then?” “Red is not the right word,” was the reply. “The plague was scarlet. The whole face and body turned scarlet in an hour's time. Don't I know? Didn't I see enough of it? And I am telling you it was scarlet because--well, because it _was_ scarlet. There is no other word for it.” “Red is good enough for me,” Hare-Lip muttered obstinately. “My dad calls red red, and he ought to know. He says everybody died of the Red Death.” “Your dad is a common fellow, descended from a common fellow,” Granser retorted heatedly. “Don't I know the beginnings of the Chauffeurs? Your grandsire was a chauffeur, a servant, and without education. He worked for other persons. But your grandmother was of good stock, only the children did not take after her. Don't I remember when I first met them, catching fish at Lake Temescal?” “What is _education?_” Edwin asked. “Calling red scarlet,” Hare-Lip sneered, then returned to the attack on Granser. “My dad told me, an' he got it from his dad afore he croaked, that your wife was a Santa Rosan, an' that she was sure no account. He said she was a _hash-slinger_ before the Red Death, though I don't know what a _hash-slinger_ is. You can tell me, Edwin.” But Edwin shook his head in token of ignorance.