“Oh, yes—man imagines everything on earth is put here for him to exploit and ruin! Where are the buffaloes? Where are the beavers? Where are the elks? Where are the bighorns? Were they put here for man to destroy—to wipe almost completely from the face of the earth? When man has learned to step down from his papier-mâché throne of insufferable conceit, he will find that he is only a part of nature’s scheme—that every other atom in the universe is as important as he is. Then we can begin to look for the dawn of civilization.”
“I’m afraid,” said Andy, “that you and Doctor Shonto are not destined to get along very well together.”
“Why?”
“Well, it is his business to exploit nature for the rebuilding of man.”
“Yes—I know. I tried to draw him out this morning, but he refused to be tempted into a discussion of his work. How long have you known him, Mr. Jerome?”
“Why, almost all my life, it seems. He is an old friend of my father and mother. I can’t remember when I didn’t know the doctor.”
“That seems strange. He is not so much older than you are. How old are you?”
“Twenty-four,” Andy replied.
“And I should say the doctor is not much over thirty.”
“Thirty-four, I believe.”