"Certainly," the lad answered, "and if you went away to Texas it would seem the same, but it really wouldn't be. The clocks change four times in the United States, don't they, Ross?" "Yes, four times," the older lad agreed. "East of a line running through Buffalo, Wheeling, Asheville and Atlanta, time is called 'Eastern Time.' Everything west of that line is really an hour later, so the clock has to be put back an hour. If a train comes from the east into the station at Wheeling, at ten o'clock in the morning, and only stays in the depot five minutes, the timetable shows that it left at five minutes past nine." "What-all happens to that yar hour?" asked Dan'l. "It's just lost," Ross declared. "That standard of time, which is called 'Central Time,' reaches clear across to the middle of the Dakotas, and the eastern boundaries of Colorado, and New Mexico. There you lose another hour, 'Mountain Time' extending as far as the ridge of the Rockies. From there to the Pacific coast, it's called 'Pacific Time' and is another hour later. "You see, Dan'l," he continued, "when it's noon in Washington and New York, it's eleven o'clock in Chicago, St. Louis and New Orleans; ten o'clock in Butte, Cheyenne and Denver; and nine o'clock in Spokane, San Francisco and Los Angeles." "Who-all fixed it up that way?" "The railways," Ross answered, "but the various states have O.K.ed it. You've got to arrange the setting of time in some definite way for the handling of railroads and telegraphs and things of that sort. It seems funny, Dan'l, but if you send a telegram here to a friend in San Francisco, he'll get it, according to his watch, nearly two hours before you sent it." Ross stooped down as he spoke, and again measured the shadow of the pole, as it lay stretched out like a black line across the grass. "It's just the same!" he cried. "It's noon now!" Anton promptly set his watch right by the sun. "There's Mr. Levin coming," he announced, "let's show him that his watch is wrong. He's always so exact." The boys came up to him, but before they could put their question, the Weather Man spoke. "Well, boys," he said, "what are you after? Putting up a flag-pole? It's a little short, isn't it?" "No, Mr. Levin," Anton answered, "that isn't a flag-pole, it's a new clock, and one that's always right!" "How have you been making it?" the Forecaster asked, immediately interested. Anton described the principles that the boys had used and especially the means adopted to ensure that the pole should be upright. "Why don't you fix it so that you won't have to measure the length of the shadow every day?" queried the Forecaster. "It's quite easy when you know how." "Won't you show us?" responded Anton.