"It seems to me that I have seen you before, but I cannot remember where it was. And I do not remember your name. Do you mind giving me the names of your traveling companions?" "Not at all. They are Professor Horace Orman Tyler Scotch, of Fardale Military Academy, sometimes known as 'Hot' Scotch, as he has a peppery temper, and the initials of his first three names form the word 'hot.' The other is Barney Mulloy, a youth who was born in Ireland, and has not recovered from it yet. The latter was a classmate of mine at Fardale, and he is traveling with me as a friendly companion, which he can afford to do, as I pay all the bills." "Haw!" exclaimed Walker. "You must have money to burn!" "No, I have not. My uncle left me a comfortable fortune, and his will provided that, in order to broaden my knowledge of the world, I should travel in company with my guardian. He selected Professor Scotch as a proper man to become my guardian, and specified that I might take along a schoolmate as a companion, if I so desired." "Re-e-markable!" cried Walker. "A most astonishing will! And how does it happen that you have become separated from your guardian and friend?" "We were going through to Texas on the Chicago, Rock Island and Pacific. I wished to visit Guthrie, the capital of Oklahoma, and they did not care to do so. I left them at Caldwell, in Kansas, with the understanding that they were to proceed to Elreno, and wait for me there." "H'm!" Walker's nose seemed pointing at the boy like an accusing finger. Doubt was expressed all over that foxy face. "You tell it well," said the man, with another queer lifting of his thin eyebrows. "What do you mean by that?" demanded the youth, sharply, wheeling squarely toward Walker. "Do you insinuate that I am not telling the truth?" Before Walker could reply, a commotion arose in the seat directly behind them. CHAPTER II. "HANDS UP!" "Aw! Thay, weally, this ith verwy impudent, don't yer know!" drawled a languid voice. "What wight have you to cwout yourthelf into a theat bethide a gentleman, thir?" "I don'd seen der shentleman anyvere," replied a nasal voice, a voice that had the genuine Jewish sound. "Thir! Do you mean to thay I am no gentleman, thir?" "Vell, I don'd mean to say nodding aboud id. I don'd vant to hurd your veelings." "You insulting w'etch!" "Don'd get excided, mein friendt." "Will you leave thith theat, thir?" "Cerdinly I vill--ven I leaf der drain." "I thall call the conductor!" "Don'd vaste your preath--peckon to him." "Thir, I would have you understand that my name ith Cholly Gwayson De Smythe." "Vell, I vos bleased to meed you. Anypody vould be pleased shust to dake a look ad you." "Thir!" "My name vas Solomon Rosenbum, vid the accent on der bum. Shake handts vid yourself."