"Well, isn't it art?" I asked.
"I suppose it is. But I like the strong work of blacksmithing best. You see, I was born to be a great historian. But destiny has made me a blacksmith," he continued irrelevantly ... "do come out and work for me. I'm hungry for an intelligent helper who can talk history with me while we work."
My transfer was effected. And I was immediately glad of it. "Mac," as we called him, was a fine, solid man ... and he did know history. He knew it as a lover knows his mistress. He was right. He should have been a great historical writer—great historian he was!
For two glorious months I was with him. And during those two months, I learned more about the touch and texture of the historic life of man than three times as many years in college could have taught me.
"Mac" talked of Cæsar as if only yesterday he had shaken hands with him in the Forum ... and he was shocked over his murder as if it had happened right after....
"Ah, that was a bad day for Rome and the future of the world, when those mad fellows struck him down there like a pig!" he cried.
And Mary, Queen of Scots, was "a sweet, soft body of a white thing that should have been content with being in love, and never tried to rule!"
"Can you cook?" asked Spalton of me one day, just as Barton had done at "Perfection City."
"No," I replied honestly, thinking back to that experience.