“No doubt of it—no doubt whatever,” instantly retorted Wiley. “I am notorious from the equator to the Arctic circle. My face is spread broadcast from Kalamazoo to Hongkong.” “You are a baseball player?” “I am; I confess it. I am one of the finest baseball players this great and glorious country has ever produced. I am lingering here a day or two before proceeding East to take charge of the New York Nationals. Once or twice I have suspected that I would never again prance forth upon the diamond and toy with the leather sphere; but I am unable to restrain my natural inclination, and the ozone of this gorgeous spring atmosphere has set the baseball fever throbbing once more in my pulmonary artery. Are you interested in the great American game, sir?” “I am what is called a fan,” answered the stranger, with a faint smile. “I presume that is how it happens that I have heard of you. If I remember right, you were with Frank Merriwell’s team last season?” “On one glorious occasion I delivered the goods for that organization. I presume you read an account of it in the newspapers? The press of the entire country literally palpitated with it.” “I saw an account of it somewhere. Who is your young friend?” The man nodded toward the hunchback. “Whom?” said Wiley. “Why, he is Master Abe, the wizard violinist. He’s one of the greatest musicians of modern times. His playing would draw tears from eyes of stone. You should hear him, sir. He has thrilled the hearts of thousands. Why, when we were abroad together he played before the crowned heads of the foreign countries.” Abe looked surprised. “Then he has traveled abroad?” questioned the stranger. “Has he?” cried the sailor. “You may wager your coin without parsimony upon it. We traveled together through Europe, Oorup, Eerup, slid through Greece, and knocked the stuffing out of Turkey. His greatest triumph was when he played before Emperor William, of Germany. The emperor was spellbound. In his excitement the ends of his mustache became entangled in his eyebrows, and it required fourteen attendants with currycombs and brushes to clear them out. At the close of the performance, when the last throbbing note of music had died away, and Abe had lowered his violin, the emperor sprang to his feet and shouted: ”_‘Ich liebe dich! Gott in Himmel!_ Frankfurters and harncase! Likewise pumpernickle!’ Then he fell on Abe’s neck, weeping as if his heart would break. We were entertained at the royal palace, where we dined in state. That night I slept in a beautiful bed with rustling silken curtains, and then—I woke up." “Why, cap’n!” gasped Abe. “Hush!” said Wiley, behind his hand. “You may have forgotten it, but I remember it just as well as I remember our trip abroad.” “Who is the instructor of this wonderful young musician?” asked the stranger.