They dont understand what real treasure is. They see it in gold and copper, and tin. They see in herds of horses or cattle. They gather treasures to themselves, building great storehouses, which they guard ferociously. Then they die. What good is it then?
Makes no sense to me,' said Huntsekker. 'You don't know who is at your door, but you know the thoughts of a man twenty miles away.' 'Life is a mystery,' said Powdermill, with a gold-toothed grin. 'It is that, right enough,' agreed Huntsekker.
