“Dr. Syx has concealed a bigger secret than that,” Hall responded, “and the Grand Teton has helped me to a glimpse of it.”
For several minutes my friend was absorbed in thought. Then he broke out:
“I tell you he’s the most wonderful man in the world!”
“Who, Dr. Syx? Well, I’ve long thought that.”
“Yes, but I mean in a different way from what you are thinking of. Do you remember my asking you once if you believed in alchemy?”
“I remember being greatly surprised by your question to that effect.”
“Well, now,” said Hall, rubbing his hands with a satisfied air, while his eyes glanced keen and bright with the reflection of some passing thought, “Max Syx is greater than any alchemist that ever lived. If those old fellows in the dark ages had accomplished everything they set out to do, they would have been of no more consequence in comparison with our black-browed friend down yonder than—than my head is of consequence in comparison with the moon.”
“I fear you flatter the man in the moon,” was my laughing reply.
“No, I don’t,” returned Hall, “and some day you’ll admit it.”
“Well, what about that something that shines down there? You seem to see more in it than I can.”