In a train, bound for Fardale, sat a peculiar-looking man and a hunchback boy. The man was “Cap’n” Wiley, sometimes known as the marine marvel, an eccentric individual who claimed to be a sailor. Wiley had met Frank Merriwell, while the latter and his friends had been playing baseball in the West. The boy was known only as Abe. He had been reared amid wild and reckless men, in a Western mining camp, where Frank had first seen him. The boy’s helplessness, and his apparent superiority to his surroundings, had interested Merriwell, who, learning that he had absolutely no relatives, so far as he knew, assumed charge of the boy, and started to bring him East with him. Wiley, for years a world-rover, had decided to visit his old home in Maine, and had joined Frank on his eastward journey. On reaching Kansas City, Frank had been called to St. Joseph on business, and had left the boy in charge of the sailor; and to explain their presence on the Fardale train, and the events which followed, it will be necessary to follow them from the West. As soon as Frank left, Wiley at once set out to show his young friend the sights, and they finally drifted into one of the best restaurants in Kansas City, where Wiley proceeded to order a lavish meal. When the food was set before them the sailor, in his breezy and characteristic manner, summoned the waiter. “What!” he exclaimed, gazing suspiciously at the meal; “is this the smell of cheese I hear? Waiter, where are those humming birds’ tongues on toast? Don’t be reluctant about spreading before me a copious display of the culinary art. I have a delicate appetite, and when I eat I eat like a prince. This bill of fare seems crude, and limited, and unfinished. The list upon it might suit ordinary mortals, but what I yearn for are a few pickled eels’ feet.” “I am afraid, sir, we cannot satisfy you!” returned the waiter haughtily. “Unless you can discover what suits your taste upon our bill of fare, you will have to go elsewhere.”