He mused a little longer, then roused himself and spake sharply:  “Thou art a vain man, Strokor!”

“Aye,” I agreed, willingly enough.  “And none has better cause than I!”

He would not acknowledge the quip.  “Thou hast everything needful to tickle thy vanity.  Thou hast the envy of those who note thy strength, the praise of them who love thy courage, and the respect of they who value thy brains.  All these thou hast—­and yet ye have not that which is best!”

I thought swiftly and turned on him with a frown:  “Mean ye that I am not handsome enough?”

“Nay, Strokor,” quoth the star-gazer.  “There be none handsomer in this world, no matter what the standard of any other, such as Edam’s Jeos.

“It is not that.  It is, that thou hast no ambition.”

I considered this deeply.  At first thought it was not true; had I not always made it a point to best my opponent?  From my youth it had been ever my custom to succeed where bigger bodies and older minds had failed.  Was not this ambition?

But before I disputed the point with Maka, I saw what he meant.  I had no final ambition, no ultimate goal for which to strive.  I had been content from year to year to outdo each rival as he came before me; and now, with mind and body alike in the pink of condition, I was come to the place where none durst stand before me.

“Ye are right, Maka,” I admitted, not because I cared to gratify his conceit, but because it were always for my own good to own up when wrong, that I might learn the better.  “Ye are right; I need to decide upon a life-purpose.  What have ye thought?”

The old man was greatly pleased.  “Our talk with Edam brought it all before me.  Know you, Strokor, that the survival of the fittest is a rule which governs man as well as men.  It applies to the entire population, Strokor, just as truly as to me or thee.

“In fine, we men who are now the sole inhabitants of this world, are descended from a race of people who survived solely because they were fitter than the mulikka, fitter than the reptiles, the fittest, by far, of all the creatures.

“That being the case, it is plain that in time either our empire, or that of Klow’s, must triumph over the other.  And that which remains shall be the fittest!”

“Hold!” I cried.  “Why cannot matters remain just as they now are—­and forever?”

“That” he said rapidly, “is because thou knowest so little about the future of this world.  But I am famed as a student of the heavens; and I tell thee it is possible, by means of certain delicate measuring instruments, together with the highest mathematics, to keep a very close watch upon the course of our world.  And we now know that our year is much shorter than it was in the days of the mulikka.”

I nodded my head.  “Rightly enough, since our days are become steadily longer, for some mysterious reason.”

“A reason no longer a mystery,” quoth Maka.  “It is now known that the sun is a very powerful magnet, and that it is constantly pulling upon our world and bringing it nearer and nearer to himself.  That is why it hath become slightly warmer during the past hundred years; the records show it plain.  And the same influence has caused the lengthening of our day.”