The lecture was over, the audience hung silent for a few seconds, sighed, became audible, stirred, fluttered, prepared for dispersal. More light was turned on and what had been a dim mass of figures became a bright confusion of movement. Some of the people signalled to friends, some crowded down towards the platform to examine the lecturer’s apparatus and make notes of his diagrams. But the chuckle-headed lad with the scrub hair wanted no such detailed frittering away of the thoughts that had inspired him. He wanted to be alone with them; he elbowed his way out almost fiercely, he made himself as angular and bony as a cow, fearing lest some one should speak to him, lest some one should invade his glowing sphere of enthusiasm. He went through the streets with a rapt face, like a saint who sees visions. He had arms disproportionately long, and ridiculous big feet. He must get alone, get somewhere high out of all this crowding of commonness, of everyday life. He made his way to the top of Arthur’s Seat, and there he sat for a long time in the golden evening sunshine, still, except that ever and again he whispered to himself some precious phrase that had stuck in his mind. ‘If,’ he whispered, ‘if only we could pick that lock....’ The sun was sinking over the distant hills. Already it was shorn of its beams, a globe of ruddy gold, hanging over the great banks of cloud that would presently engulf it. ‘Eh!’ said the youngster. ‘Eh!’ He seemed to wake up at last out of his entrancement, and the red sun was there before his eyes. He stared at it, at first without intelligence, and then with a gathering recognition. Into his mind came a strange echo of that ancestral fancy, that fancy of a Stone Age savage, dead and scattered bones among the drift two hundred thousand years ago. ‘Ye auld thing,’ he said—and his eyes were shining, and he made a kind of grabbing gesture with his hand; ‘ye auld red thing.... We’ll have ye _yet_.’ CHAPTER THE FIRST THE NEW SOURCE OF ENERGY Section I