“What, for instance?”
“Palms and ferns, a species of parrot, saber-tooth tigers; and also mastodons, members of the elephant family. All fossils and parts of skeletons, you understand.”
“No human beings, MacNeal? Any skeletons or fossils of those up this way?”
“Never heard of it. Prehistoric people are being found in England and France, however.”
“Huh,” he said.
He pondered, puffing at his pipe, his eyes on the fire. He looked perplexed about something.
“Look here, MacNeal,” he said suddenly. “Say a man dies. He’s dead, ain’t he?”
“No doubt of it,” I laughed, wondering.
“Couldn’t come to life again, eh?”
“Hardly. Not if he were really dead. I’ve heard of cases of suspended animation. The heart, apparently, quits beating for one, two or possibly ten minutes. It doesn’t in fact, though; it’s simply that its beating can’t be detected. When a man’s heart stops beating he’s dead.”