Whew! dry, powdery smoke! That's bone." Then it was that Venters's primitive, childlike mood, like a savage's, seeing, yet unthinking, gave way to the encroachment of civilized thought.

The world had not been made for a single day's play or fancy or idle watching.

The world was old.

Nowhere could be gotten a better idea of its age than in this gigantic silent tomb.

The gray ashes in Venters's hand had once been bone of a human being like himself.