The Golden Fleece

The professor crossed one long lean leg over the other and punched down the ashes in his pipe-bowl with the square tip of his middle finger. The thermometer on the shady veranda marked eighty-seven degrees of heat and nature wooed the soul to languor and revery; but nothing could abate the energy of this bony sage. They talk about their Atlantises-their submerged conti-nents! he exclaimed with a sniff through his wide hairy nostrils. Why Trednoke do you realize that we are living literally at the bottom of a Mesozoic-at any rate Cenozoic -sea? The gentleman thus indignantly addressed contemplated his questioner with the serenity of one conscious of freedom from geologic responsibility. He was a man of about the professor's age-say sixty years-but not like him in appearance. His figure was stately and massive-that of one who in his youth must have possessed vast physical strength rigidly developed and disciplined. Well set upon his broad shoulders was a noble head crowned with gray wavy hair; the eyes and eyebrows were black and powerful but the expression was kindly and humorous.