then, we'll visit the factory. Come on."

Morosely he strode along the weed-grown path across the valley. Midway they passed the little cemetery where six generations of Robertsons lay side by side.

"I had to bury him myself, sir." Tom indicated a fresh mound of earth. "They couldn't help ... couldn't perform a task they were not accustomed to."

In contrast with the neglect apparent on the rest of the island, the factory, despite its age and ugliness, hummed with life. As they approached they heard the clink of hammers and the endless flapping of belts. When his eyes became accustomed to the dimness inside, Jonathan saw long lines of men and women bent over ancient work benches, operating the lathes and forges of another age. They were doing all manner of complicated tasks in complete silence and with perfect concentration.

Not a worker glanced up as he entered. The tempo of toil continued without a break.

"Are they always like this, Tom?" The heir of all the Robertsons felt his hair prickle. "Don't they ever talk?"

"Always like this, sir. When the gong rings they have their lunch. The next time it sounds they march back to the barracks behind the factory. In the morning it calls them to work at daybreak."

"But what do they do when not working?"

"Eat. Sleep. Breed."

"And the children?"

"They work, too, as soon as they can walk. It is the law. They have obeyed it during eight or more generations, for their lives are short; it's too late to change them now."

Stopping before a time-blackened bench, Jonathan picked up a piece of blue stone upon which a gaunt, stoop-shouldered young man was working.

The effect was instant and frightful. With a snarl like a dog from which one has snatched a bone, the laborer grabbed the jewel from the intruder's hand. Then, as he again began working upon it, his face resumed its previous vacant stare.

"You see, sir?" Tom said. "It's the same way in the mine. They've lost most human characteristics. Notice that one's fingers ... long and slender for delicate work. And this one's ... so tough that he can reach right into 

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