“For many years,” answered the Doctor, as he lighted a cigarette and sank back in his chair with a sigh of comfort, “that troubled me, but as I grow older I find myself thinking less of death and clinging fast to life. Death! Bah! It does not frighten me. It may be a vast nothingness, or it may be a step to a higher existence. What does it matter? Our work is here; we have our friends to love, our duty to be done; that is life, and I like it.”
“The body dies,” went on Dr. Barnhelm, “but the soul, can that ever die? I doubt it! Every man of us who has a soul must doubt it.”
“Every man of us,” said Paul. “Ah! At least we, all of us, have that in common, I suppose.”
“All of us? Do you think so?”
“Naturally, to a greater or less degree. Your soul, my friend, may be big and fine; mine may be mean and small, but if in the human body there is such a thing, surely we all of us must have it.”
“Do you know the theory of the ‘Sixth Day Men,’ Paul?”
“‘The Sixth Day Men,’” repeated Paul, “no. It has a most effective title, this theory of yours; tell me of it.”
“In the beginning, God created the Heaven and the Earth; for six days he labored, and on the seventh day he rested.”
“I heard rumors to that effect,” commented Dr. Crossett lightly.
“Days in that time,” continued Dr. Barnhelm, not noticing his friend’s interruption, “were not of twenty-four hours; they were Alous, cycles of time. During those periods animal life came, evolution went on, bit by bit, with thousands of years between each step of its progress. A man-thing came into the world.”