Henry
was different. He had no romance in his make-up. He always looked at the
money in a thing. To his mind, going to Venus was playing the fool, when
we had at our command the means of owning the earth.
"Edmund," he said, after mumbling for a while under his breath, "this is
the most utter tomfoolery that ever I heard of. Here you've got an
invention that would revolutionize mechanics, and instead of utilizing it
you rush off into space on a hairbrained adventure. You might have been
twenty times a billionaire inside of a year if you had stayed at home and
developed the thing. Why, it's folly; pure, beastly folly! Going to
Venus! What can you make on Venus?"
Edmund only smiled. After a little he said:
"Well, I'm sorry for you, Henry. But then you're cut out on the ordinary
pattern. But cheer up. When we go back, perhaps I'll let you take out a
patent, and you can make the billions. For my part, Venus is more
interesting to me than all the money you could pile up between the
Atlantic Ocean and the Rocky Mountains. Why," he continued, warming up,
and straightening with a certain pride which he had, "am I not the
Columbus of Space?--And you my lieutenants," he added, with a smile.
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