"Let's see," mused Bob, at the throttle; "we left Port Darwin the evening of the 26th; the evening of the 27th we were still at sea, and the next morning--the 28th--" "You're ahead of time just one day," laughed John. "This is the 27th of the month." "How do you make that out?" asked Bob. "Didn't we leave Port Darwin on the 26th?" "Yes," admitted John. "And the following evening we were at sea?' "Granted. That was last evening--the 27th." "Then any dunce can see that to-day is the 28th," said Bob witheringly. "That's what I say, too," supported Paul. But John only laughed harder, and this time Tom joined him. "John's right," said Tom; "to-day is the 27th." "It _can't_ be," protested Bob. "You own up that yesterday was the 27th, don't you?" "I certainly do," chuckled John; "but you forget one thing, young man: that same evening, all in a moment's time, we crossed the One Hundred and Eightieth Meridian--the date-line of the world--and while it was Thursday, the 27th on the west side of this line, it became Wednesday, the 26th the instant we crossed over to the east side." "Oh, sure!" exclaimed Bob and Paul, feeling very silly. And the latter added: "That's where we gain a day in our lives--and to think that Bob and I were asleep at that auspicious moment!" "I know an old maid who swears she is fifteen years younger than she really looks," commented Tom. "I think she must have done a lot of globe trotting, and always east!" "There's no danger of the fair sex ever circling the globe in a westerly direction," laughed John, "for that would make them one day older every time." The day could not have been better. Hardly a cloud was to be seen on the horizon, and the regular trade-winds blowing westward were soft and steady, and they were making excellent time. Grandpa frisked about, perching on this object and that, and occasionally running back into some secret nook where he had hidden his supply of nuts. With one of these in his paw he would jump up on something, crack it in his powerful small jaws, and look very wise and serious as he picked out the meats with his slim fingers. Finally the monkey had his fill, and hopped up into Tom's lap. He began to play with Tom's hair, smoothing it down pretty soon with the flyer's comb, which he discovered in a pocket. So handy was Grandpa with this utensil that the others went into peals of laughter. Tiring of this, the monkey's eye caught sight of several freckles upon the back of Tom's hand. He tried in vain to pick the freckles off; then he became excited, for he could not understand why they would not lift up. He chattered scoldingly at everybody; then tried again. Failing, he sprang down and went to a far corner, in a fine sulk. Evidently he thought Tom was playing a trick on him, and had glued the freckles down someway just to tease him; for Tom, it must be admitted, was greatly given to bothering Grandpa in some such manner.