"There are not medicines, exactly," answered the boy, with a smile. "They are Concentrated Food Tablets, sorted with nourishment by means of electricity. One of them furnishes a person with food for an entire day."
The old gentleman stared at Rob a moment and then laid down his magazine and took the box in his hands, examining the tablets curiously.
"Are these patented?" he asked.
"No," said Rob; "they are unknown to any one but myself."
"I will give you a half million dollars for the recipe to make them," said the gentleman.
"I fear I must refuse your offer," returned Rob, with a laugh.
"I'll make it a million," said the gentleman, coolly.
Rob shook his head.
"Money can't buy the recipe," he said; "for I don't know it myself."
"Couldn't the tablets be chemically analyzed, and the secret discovered?" inquired the other.
"I don't know; but I'm not going to give any one the chance to try," declared the boy, firmly.
The old gentleman picked up his magazine without another word, and resumed his reading.
For amusement Rob took the Record of Events from his pocket and began looking at the scenes reflected from its polished plate.
