“The two men,” continued the Colonel, “ran to the foreman. Fortunately I happened to be with him. At the men’s story I hurried to the cave. The peculiar and elaborate appointments of it astonished me. In a little side recess I found some curious notes and papers bearing on the subject of mesmeric forces and suspension of animation. From the ground I picked up a piece of money. It bore the date eighteen hundred and seventy-six. ‘Come,’ said I to myself, ‘this piece of money must have been coined at the time of the Presidency of the famous soldier, General Grant. Such money is surely not in general circulation now!’ All of these strange occurrences began to give me a faint hint of the truth. Such cases are not entirely unknown to our modern science, I believe, although the duration of the sleep in this instance exceeds anything yet reported.” “Quite so,” commented Dr. O’Hanlenne. “I started on a hunt for my involuntary guests,” continued the Colonel, with a smile at Kearns and the Professor. “On the Pemberton road I luckily encountered Mrs. Merriweather and her daughter, who had met two men who asked after strange places. These men had actually made inquiries for a horse and carriage.” Both the Colonel and the Doctor broke into a guffaw. “Oh, yes,” interjected the Professor. “I remember the old woman--a queer sort of person who talked about fourteen and fifteen o’clock and had never heard of a Presidential election.” Again the Colonel and the Doctor laughed. “So you thought her language queer, did you?” exclaimed the Colonel. “Fourteen and fifteen o’clock sound strangely to your ears? Well; since your day we have changed the nomenclature of time somewhat and I think I may say without vanity we have improved upon your methods. Instead of your A. M. and P. M., which we moderns find awkward and cumbersome and likely to lead to confusion in certain instances, we divide the day and night into a straight twenty-four hours. Thus we count from midnight to midnight. One hour after noon is with us thirteen o’clock and the day closes at the last stroke of midnight, which we name twenty-four o’clock. Thus it would appear that old Mrs. Merriweather was not so much out of the way, after all.” “Oh, I see,” replied the Professor, “but may I inquire how it was that she had never heard of the village of Averill and why so much anger on her part, and merriment on yours, over our very innocent inquiry for a conveyance?” “What kind of a conveyance was it you asked for?” inquired the Colonel, with a merry twinkle in his eyes. “A horse and carriage, sir,” answered the Professor with dignity. The Doctor coughed a discreet professional cough and pressed his handkerchief to his lips in an all too evident attempt to conceal his merriment. The Colonel laughed outright.