"Nevertheless it is the truth," he insisted. "But I won't say another word until you see what I have discovered. Then, my friend, the laugh will be on you."
Needless to say I was as anxious to visit my friend's find as was he, and on the following morning, as soon as we had finished our coffee, we started off. For a space we pushed through the jungle, a most unpleasant place in the early morning before the sun had dried the moisture from the leaves. Then we went along the bank of a small stream, across a ridge, until we came to one of those tongues of barren rocky desert, which, along this coast, extend down from the mountains almost to the sea. Here was a bowlike depression in the ridge, a crater-like pit perhaps fifty feet in diameter and twenty feet in depth, and surrounded by a rim of fine sand which caused it to stand out prominently from the dark pyroxene rocks and reddish-brown tufa.
"Behold!" cried Ramon, dramatically indicating the depression with a gesture.
I stared into the pit. In the center of the bottom was a roughly-rounded blackish mass, and, gleaming in the sunlight amid the sand of the pit's circumference, were numberless masses of the peculiar green material I have described.
I scrambled into the hollow and examined them. There was no doubt about it. They were the same, and, varied in size from a few inches across to masses a yard or more in diameter.
My companion was grinning delightedly. "Now do you understand?" he cried. "Was I not right when I said it was artificial, but not the work of man?"
"Not as far as I can see," I replied. "Quite obviously the mineral is not the result of human handiwork, but equally obviously it is not artificial."
"For a scientist, you are not a keen observer," commented Ramon, who had joined me in the pit. "I do not claim to be a geologist and yet the whole affair was plain to me almost as soon as I discovered this spot. Have you examined that black mass beside you? You will find it a meteorite. This pit is the crater it formed in striking the earth, and this green substance is a compound formed by the terrific heat and pressure of the meteor's impact, which fused certain elements and produced the material that has been a mystery."
I realized that Ramon was right. There was no doubt about the immense mass of material being a meteorite, and a closer examination of the green stuff-revealed indications of its having been fused. But there was one thing that puzzled me. When I picked up one of the lumps of substance I found one surface roughly convex, exactly as was the piece Ramon had brought in to camp the night previous.
"Ah!" I ejaculated. "I see the Manabis have been at work here. It is strange they should have attempted to manufacture their lenses in such a place."
Professor Amador smiled, "Mistaken again," he chuckled. "No human hands have touched that before yours. The Manabis had nature on their side. If you examine the meteorite carefully you will find that its surface is made up of slightly concave facets or depressions. And if you place the piece of material in your hand upon the surface of the aerolite you will discover that it fits perfectly into some one of those depressions. Undoubtedly, when the meteorite fell and fused the minerals where it struck, the molten matter formed a coating or shell about it. In time, owing perhaps to weathering, perhaps to the shrinkage as the material cooled, the fused matter broke off and fell from the meteor, each piece being molded convex on one side where it had been cast into form, as I might say. No doubt the Manabis, finding these rather attractive bits of semi-transparent material, polished the surfaces and by accident discovered that they possessed lenses."
While he was speaking I had been most painstakingly examining both the meteor and the mineral I had picked up.
"I admit your explanation sounds plausible," I replied, "But, as you just admitted, you are not a geologist. Neither am I for that matter, although I did take a special course in that science when at Yale. And I am afraid I must quote your own words of a short time ago and inform you, my very dear friend, that you are not a keen observer. You have, to make use of a time-honored saying, put the cart before the horse in a way. You are no doubt correct in regard to the meteorite generating heat and pressure when it struck; possibly it may have fused certain portions of the rock and sand here. But your green mineral substance is not the result of that. On the contrary, it is the crystalline form of the meteorite itself. The mass, of course, was incandescent as it passed through our atmosphere. Probably, in fact unquestionably, when it fell, this area was under water, and the sudden cooling, perhaps combined with chemical reactions if it was salt water, as it probably was, caused the outer surface of the meteor to crystallize.
"If you question the accuracy of my deductions, you have only to examine both the meteor and the green substance. You will find that, under a lens, minute crystals of the same character are everywhere distributed in the mass of the meteorite."
"Hm, I admit you may be right," muttered Ramon, after he had followed my suggestion, "but," he added triumphantly, "that does not in any way affect my statement. Whether the material was formed from molten sand or rock, or whether it was produced from the aerolite itself, is merely a technical question. The main point is that it was produced by a meteorite falling upon our planet, and was not fabricated by man, and that the crude lenses were formed by nature in the way I have explained. But," he continued thoughtfully, "your discovery explains why I could not analyze the material. Meteorites, I understand, contain some remarkable and perhaps unknown elements. No wonder I could not identify them! And—amigo mio," he cried excitedly, "we may be on the verge of an astounding discovery! For all we know the material brought to us from the heavens, from another planet, may possess characters— optical or otherwise— which are wholly undreamed of, totally unknown! Carramba! I am impatient to experiment, to solve the secrets, the mysteries of this celestial substance. And I stand here idly talking, wasting precious moments!"
I laughed. "Considering that this meteor and the green material has been here for several thousand, probably several hundred-thousand years, a few minutes' delay is of no great consequence," I reminded him. "But, all joking aside, I do not blame you for your impatience. I am almost as deeply interested in it as you are. I shall await the outcome of your experiments with the greatest interest, Ramon. And I most heartily congratulate you upon your great good fortune in discovering this most astonishing source of the material, brought, as you say, from another world, another planet."
CHAPTER IV
It was indeed fortunate that Professor Amador had had the foresight to bring a completely equipped laboratory and workshop with him. Had he been forced to return to the United States in order to conduct his experiments I truly believe he would have gone mad with impatience, and he might never have made the most astonishing discovery of all. Moreover, had he carried out his experimental work in the States, very serious and regrettable results might have followed. And yet, on the other hand, had he not brought such a complete outfit along, he might still be with us, and the final results that I am about to narrate might not—in fact could not—-have transpired.
Having taken a number of the best pieces of the new material (which Ramon named Manabinite) to his laboratory, he busied himself day and night experimenting with small specimens of the mineral, covering sheets of paper with abstract and involved mathematical calculations, conducting exhaustive physical and chemical tests and cutting, grinding and polishing the strange material.
"It's almost as hard as sapphire," he informed me, "but, it has a most remarkable property of cleaving on the plane of its rounded surface when it is struck in certain spots, or of cleaving at right angles to its axis if struck on another spot. I have not fully worked out its optical properties yet, but I should say off-hand that its refractive index is fully equal if not in excess of that of the diamond. A lens composed of it should, theoretically, magnify an object fully fifty times more than a glass lens of the same formula. Think of it, my friend! Think what that means to science, to optics, to humanity! Think what wonders of biology and nature may be revealed when we have microscope objectives capabl
e of enlarging an object fifty times more than any lens yet produced! Think what it will mean in astronomy! Why, amigo mio, with a telescope lens of this material, no larger than any of the great objectives already in use, we should be able to view the trees, the houses upon Mars!"
"Provided," I reminded him, "that your theories are borne out, that the Manabinite is sufficiently transparent to be used as powerful lenses, and provided that you can obtain masses large enough for manufacturing such lenses. You forget, Ramon, that, as far as we have reason to believe, the entire world's supply of Manabinite is in that miniature meteor crater. I cannot say how much is there, but I should hazard a guess that the quantity is exceedingly limited, and that the largest piece is far too small to be transformed into a telescope objective for studying the planets."
Ramon's face fell. "Yes, that is so," he grudgingly admitted. "I have searched the pit thoroughly—have dug deep into the surrounding sand and rocks, have even gone several feet below the meteor itself, and have gathered every fragment and flake I can find. The total amount is woefully small. In fact I might say it is inadequate for carrying on as many experiments as I would wish. Yes, unless we can discover another deposit—which is practically impossible under the conditions—or unless I can discover how to imitate Manabinite artificially, then I fear very much that my discovery—our discovery—will be of little real value to the world. But," he cried, once more enthusiastic, "it is going to solve the problem of Manabi art and, who knows, perhaps the mystery of Tiahuanaco and other Cyclopean works as well."
"Just what have you accomplished so far?" I asked him. "Have you started making a lens yet? It seems to me that the first and most important step would be to make a small lens and test it out. You may find the darned thing won't work at all."
"It will work, all right," he assured, me, "Yes, I have been busy a goodly portion of the time, grinding a lens from a small mass of Manabinite. I have worked along rather revolutionary lines and am grinding the lens to conform to the formula worked out by a determination of its refractive qualities. By to-morrow I hope to have it completed. Then, amigo mio, for the great test."
Of course we were both keyed up when, on the following day, Ramon announced that the lens was completed, and that he would like to have me present when he made his first test. It was very thoughtful of him to do this, and I fully appreciated how great a sacrifice it had been for him to refrain from satisfying his desire and curiosity until I could be with him.
I must admit that he had done a most beautiful piece of work. The lens was as beautiful as a polished emerald, and seemed actually to glow with internal fires.
"There is one thing certain," I laughed, as I admired it. "Even if this Manabinite is worthless for lenses you can make a fortune selling it for gems. It is harder than emeralds, you say, and to my mind much more beautiful. And, best of all, there is such a limited quantity that the market will never be flooded."
Ramon smiled. "No doubt," he agreed. "But let us defer any such matters until after we have had a look through this lens. Here, my friend, if it had not been for you, I never should have come here nor made this discovery. It is your right and privilege to be the first to look through a lens of Manabinite."
In vain I protested. Ramon insisted and, grasping the glorious green lens, I held it between my eyes and the little pile of golden grains that Ramon had placed upon the table. For a moment I could see only a marvelous, vastly deep, apparently fathomless, green light. It seemed like looking into the very depth of a tropical sea. And then suddenly, unexpectedly, an object seemed to rush towards me, to burst through the wondrous green, to hurl it aside, and I involuntarily uttered a sharp, surprised exclamation. But the next instant my cry changed to one of utter amazement and incredulity. The object had come to rest, a great dull-yellow mass like a submerged mountain, a mass, the surface of which was scored, cut, incised with deep rough furrows, ravines, valley and canons. But I recognized them instantly. They were orderly arranged, they followed definite lines, and I knew that I was gazing upon the immensely enlarged surface of one of the minute gold beads upon the table-top.
"It is marvelous, amazing, absolutely incredible!" I cried, handing the lens reluctantly to Ramon. "No wonder the Manabis could manufacture such beads, could engrave a lapis-lazuli idol with microscopic designs. Why, man, that bead looks as big as a mountain! It must be magnified hundreds—thousands of diameters!"
But I doubt very much if Ramon even heard my voice. He, too, had seen, and entirely forgetting his surroundings, he was exclaiming, enthusing, almost shouting in his native Spanish.
At last he tore his eyes from the seemingly magic lens, and, with a deep sigh, dropped limply into a chair.
"It is true. It is as I thought, as I hoped!" he cried. "Success has come at last! Ah, amigo mio, if you only knew the fears, the doubts that I have had. If you only realized the blow it would have been had all my calculations, my theories and my labors come to nothing! I would have been crushed, discouraged and —do you know, my dear good friend—your ridicule would have been the hardest of all to bear? But now!" he jumped up, filled with energy and life. "Now, I have proved everything. What a lens! Do you not agree, amigo?"
"Ramon," I said, seizing his hand and looking into his eyes. "I never dreamed that you took my bantering seriously. Come, old man, forgive me, won't you? But I realized what work and life you have put into this thing. You have overdone. You must take a rest. You have triumphed, mightily, beyond my words to express. You have revolutionized optics, my friend, What more do you want?"
Ramon's lips parted in that happy, boyish smile I loved. "Now you are taking me too seriously!" he cried. "You forget I am a temperamental Latin with the Indian tendency to enjoy a bit of martyrdom and self-pity. No, I never actually took your raillery seriously. I believed all along that, in the bottom of your heart, you thought much as I did. But I cannot, rest yet. I have only commenced. This is merely a beginning. Why, amigo, that tiny lens is simply a crude experiment. It is not perfectly ground, its curvature is largely guesswork, and it is made from an imperfect piece of Manabinite. Wait until I make a really good lens and see what you will see."
But when, after a number of days' incessant labor, my friend had made a second lens—or rather had remade the first—to exactly conform with his ideas, his formula; and his theories, I could not see that it was very much superior to the first. I admitted that it was slightly clearer, that it magnified the objects beneath to a greater extent, but it was no more remarkable than the first lens which, to me, was still a veritable marvel.
And Ramon was bitterly disappointed. He had accomplished wonders, his deductions and theories had been borne out, but somewhere he had made some error and he completely lost sight of the fact that he had apparently solved the mystery of the Manabis' secret in his failure to accomplish what he had hoped for, the discovery of some new optical or physical law.
"There is nothing new or revolutionary about it," he declared, when we were discussing the matter one day. "To be sure, Manabinite possesses most remarkable qualities of magnification, but that is due to its refractive index, not to any new law. Very probably an immense diamond might prove to possess most unusual powers as a lens, although there is something else, some elusive hidden peculiarity of the composition, the crystallization or the color of Manabinite that adds to its power. But that does not mean anything really new.
"And there is another thing that perhaps you have not noticed. This lens, or rather these lenses, I have made, possess very little depth of focus—almost none at all, in fact. Outside of a very small portion of the object brought under them, in a necessarily restricted area all within the same plane, nothing is magnified, nothing is clear. In fact the rest of the object is practically invisible. That is why you were so surprised when the gold bead seemed to leap at you when you first looked through the lens. Until the bead was within the very shallow focal plane of the lens, you saw nothing, then, as you brought a portion of its surface into focus, it spran
g into view. With an ordinary lens, even where there is little depth of focus, there is a blurred, but visible image of the entire object under the glass, even of surrounding objects, for the glass is transparent. But with the Manabinite lens, everything, but the small portion actually sharply focussed, is shut off as if by a screen. That puzzles me, and I cannot solve the mystery, just as soon as an object is within focus, the lens seems to become perfectly transparent—even the green tint vanishes—but as far as everything else is concerned, the lens might as well be opaque. And for that reason, amigo, I am sure I have not yet solved the problem of how the Manabis made their minute beads and carved their invisible designs,"
"What?" I cried. "You mean you do not believe they used Manabinite lenses? You mean you have cast aside all your assumptions and theories? Good heavens, Ramon, you are queer! Just when you have convinced me you were right, you turn about and claim you were wrong. Why, man, you must be taking leave of your senses! Here you have absolutely proved your theories, have proved that the Manabis had lenses capable of magnifying objects hundreds of times, and then you tell me you haven't solved the problem!"
Ramon shook his head. "For a man who always boasts that nothing is proved until it is demonstrated, you take a most remarkable attitude," he replied. "You say I have proved the Manabis used lenses of Manabinite when performing their remarkable feats of sculpture and handicraft. But I have done nothing of the sort. I have proved that Manabinite possesses unique powers of magnification. I proved nothing more. And I have proved to my own satisfaction that, when it was used in the form of an ordinary lens, Manabinite would have been almost, if not quite useless to the aborigines who occupied this site. Suppose, just to demonstrate your assumption, that you try to do a little work upon some object while it is viewed by your eyes through the lens. I have tried it and I have found it utterly impossible. It is hopeless, an impossibility, to keep the tool used and the surface upon which it is used in focus at the same time. And it is equally hopeless to try to follow out a design or a pattern upon any object when only a very limited portion of that object is visible. If you doubt me, try to make a drawing of some very simple form—one of your prehistoric pots or a human being or a pig—anything, in fact, by cutting a round hole in a sheet of paper, placing this over another sheet and drawing the object bit by bit upon the surface of the paper visible through the hole. I'll wager that when you have finished, the result of your labors will be utterly unrecognizable. No, my friend, if the Manabis fashioned their miniature objects by means of a lens, it was a lens through which they could see the entire surface of the object upon which they worked. But," he added vehemently, "there must be an answer, there is a solution. I am positive they used Manabinite. I am equally positive they did not use it in the form of an ordinary lens, and, gracias da Dios, I am going to discover what they did use. And when I do, amigo mio, I will discover the great secret, the unknown law of optics or physics or both. I shall do it even if I spend the rest of my life at it!"
Into the Green Prism Page 4
