He knew that mankind to-day can produce, in facsimile, types of ancestors found in pliocene strata at least 500,000 years old. Stone knives alone could make the intentional cuts found on the ribs of a cetacean stranded on the shore of the pliocene sea, and what that meant to a prehistoric tribe is clearly shown by Lord Avebury’s (Sir John Lubbock’s) summary of a description by Captain Grey of a recent whale feast in Australia: “When a whale is washed ashore it is a real godsend to them (the aborigines). Fires are lit to give notice of the joyful event. They rub themselves all over with blubber and anoint their favorite wives in the same way. Then they cut down through the blubber to the beef, which they eat raw or broil on pointed sticks. As other natives arrive they ‘fairly eat their way into the whale, and you see them climbing in and about the stinking carcase, choosing tit-bits.... There is no sight in the world more revolting than to see a young and gracefully formed girl stepping out of the interior of a putrid whale.’” Hooper had plenty of time to let his imagination run riot in this wise. The light fell on Grier’s face, but the watcher looked in vain for any indication of the sights or sounds in which the sleeper was participating. Karl, to outward semblance, might be either really asleep or brought to muscular rigidity by the influence of an anæsthetic. He was calm, unmoved, the lips slightly parted, with healthy color, and an easy rise and fall of the chest. This late sitting broke the stringent college rules, but Hooper cared little for penal ordinances. Yet even he grew anxious when Karl failed to arouse himself after an hour had passed in utter silence. He was very reluctant to disturb his comrade. This present flight through space promised to transcend its predecessors in the prolonged sequence of its events. Nevertheless, there was a limit to his friend’s endurance if not to his own. When the expiration of another fifteen minutes revealed no sign of Grier’s return to consciousness, Hooper did not think he was justified in permitting the trance to continue indefinitely without assuring himself, at any rate, that Grier’s pulse was normal and his heart beating regularly. He stooped and caught Karl’s wrist gently. He noticed that the breathing was slow and measured, and he had just succeeded in detecting the pulse when Karl opened his eyes. He gave one surprised, almost bewildered glance at Hooper, laughed cheerfully when he looked at the clock on the mantelpiece, and said, in the most matter-of-fact way: “Have you ever heard of a man named Steindal in New York?” “Y--yes.” Hooper nearly stammered, he was so taken aback by the curiously commonplace question. “Is he connected with the stage?” went on Karl, eagerly. “Yes, in a sense. He is a dramatic agent, I think.”