ty eyes that were set so deeply in
the wrinkled, leathery countenance. He suspected an ulterior motive, but
could not find it within him to turn the old fellow down.

"Why--I guess so, Crompton," he hesitated: "I have nothing against you,
but I came here for seclusion and I'll not have anyone bothering me in
my work."

"I'll not bother you, young man. But I'm fond of pets and I see you have
many of them here; guinea pigs, chickens, pigeons, and rabbits. Would
you mind if I make friends with some of them?"

"They're not pets," answered Tom dryly, "they are material for use in my
experiments. But you may amuse yourself with them if you wish."

"You mean that you cut them up--kill them, perhaps?"

"Not that. But I sometimes change them in physical form, sometimes cause
them to become of huge size, sometimes produce pigmy offspring of normal
animals."

"Don't they suffer?"

"Very seldom, though occasionally a subject dies. But the benefit that
will accrue to mankind is well worth the slight inconvenience to the
dumb creatures and the infrequent loss of their lives."

* * * * *

Old Crompton regarded him dubiously. "You are trying to find?" he
interrogated.

"The secret of life!" Tom Forsythe's eyes took on the stare of
fanaticism. "Before I have finished I shall know the nature of the vital
force--how to produce it. I shall prolong human life indefinitely;
create artificial life. And the solution is more closely approached with
each passing day."

The hermit blinked in pretended mystification. But he understood
perfectly, and he bitterly envied the younger man's knowledge and
ability that enabled him to delve into the mysteries of nature which had
always been so attractive to his own mind. And somehow, he acquired a
sudden deep hatred of the coolly confident young man who spoke so
positively of accomplishing the impossible.

During the winter months that followed, the strange acquaintance
progressed but little. Tom did not invite his neighbor to visit him,
nor did Old Crompton go out of his way to impose his presence on the
younger man, though each spoke pleasantly enough to the other on the few
occasions when they happened to meet.

With the coming of spring they encountered one another more frequently,
and Tom found considerable of interest in the quaint, borrowed
philosophy of the gloomy old man. Old Crompton, of course, was
desperately interested in the things that were hi