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I tell you, Mr. Beason,
scientific training kills many men for research work. They're afraid to
move more than inch by inch. They won't take any jumps. Now Dr. Hubers
jumps; I've seen him do it. Of course, after he's made his jump he goes
back and sees that there aren't any ditches in between, but he's not
afraid of a leap in the dark. That's his own peculiar gift. Most of us
are not made for jumping."
"But that doesn't sound like the scientific method," said Beason, brows
knitted.
"I'll admit it wouldn't do for general practice," replied the older man,
a twinkle in his eye. "The spirit has to move you, or you wouldn't gain
anything but a broken neck."
"Yes, but that thing of a spirit moving you," said Beason, more sure of
himself here, "that does not belong in science at all; that is a part of
religion."
"And to a man like Dr. Hubers"--very quietly and firmly--"science is
religion."
Beason pondered that a minute. "They're entirely distinct," was his
conclusion.
"So it seems to you; but I'm a year or two older than you are, Mr.


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