Page:Weird Tales Volume 7 Number 3 (1926-03).djvu/118

 There is a Real Thrill in These Final Chapters of

HORSBY led the wav from the laboratory back to the living room, where Hilda awaited them, a question in her eyes. Blandon did not seat himself. He stood leaning on his crutch watching them both. Thorsby's moment of rage was passed and he was contemplating his guest calmly.

"Won't you sit down, Mr. Blandon?" he asked courteously. Blandon did not hear the question, for he was trying to frame his thoughts. His plan was changed. He could not hide his intentions any longer.

"Mr. Thorsby, you are wrong, all wrong," he suddenly spoke, and never in his life had he been so serious. "You can't realize how wrong you are, sir. Don't you see what you are doing? You are wrecking the country you say you want to save, and when she is gone there is nothing left.'

Thorsby did not move or change expression. Blandon went on.

"You have only frightened the little minds you talk about. The big minds are unafraid. They see things as they are. They see that little minds have to be made big before force may be abolished. What are ships and forts and guns but larger clubs and stones and arrows than the primitive man once used? Man has fought since the beginning of time. He fought to be a man and then kept on fighting to grow into a better man. Civilization is founded on . this uphill fight. Every time man has fought, something better has come out of it. I don't mean that wars start for better things—they are outbursts that somehow leave the world better off:

"You are not going to stop them because you take away the things that kill easily. They will fight each other with fists and stones and clubs and knives. You are not going to teach the little minds anything. Haven't the mobs, your little mind in mass,