“My father's name was Benjamin, Martha was my mother, and I had a brother William--that is, I had them all when I ran away to sea at the age of seventeen years, ten months, and fifteen days. I always remember my exact age for I wished to know just how long I had been gone when I got back.” The villagers looked at the stranger with marked variations in expression, but no one spoke until Abner remarked: “I guess you've struck the right place. There's a young feller named Billy Ricker that works for Mr. Strout here,” and he pointed to that gentleman. “Billy's father was named Bill, but he's dead; so's Ben and Marthy. I know'd 'em all.” “I am glad to learn that I have a nephew in the land of the living. Where is he?” “He lives in Montrose, the next town north of us,” said Mr. Strout. “We have a branch store there an' Billy has charge of it.” “If he had some capital, I suppose he could become a partner,” remarked Mr. Ricker. “Not much,” said Strout. “We have all the money we need, and know where to get more. What we want is men, an' we have a good one in Billy.” Mr. Ricker removed his unseasonable headgear and moved nearer to the stove. “I have heard of the late Mr. Sawyer and was sorry to hear of his early demise.” He looked at Abner, then at Mr. Strout. “Your friend here has told me about his wonderful exploits--how he thrashed the town bully, and beat the singing-master at his own game.” Bob Wood and Strout glared at Abner. “But his experiences, which I have been told have appeared in print,” the stranger continued, “are trifling compared with the perils and adventures which have fallen to my lot. I could make your blood run cold.” “Ef we open the front door, I guess the weather will do that,” said Hiram, and it was the general opinion, though not verbally expressed, that Hiram had got one on the stranger. Mr. Emmanuel Howe, the clergyman's son, was noted for his extreme politeness. He had attended one term at a divinity school before he met Miss Dixie Schaffer. He arose from the nail-keg upon which he had been sitting, and motioned for the stranger to take his place. As he accepted the mute invitation, Mr. Ricker turned to the company and said: “Gentlemen, shall I intrude upon your time if I relate just one of my adventures?” “Oh, go ahead,” said Strout. “It's our rule to let a man talk until we get enough, and then--” He raised his right foot, suddenly. “I understand,” said Mr. Ricker. “When I was about twenty-two years old our vessel was wrecked and I, the only one saved, was cast ashore on a cannibal island--or, to be more correct ethnologically, an island inhabited by cannibals. I was a handsome young fellow, and it is not at all surprising that the Queen, who was young, unmarried, and, fortunately, very pretty, fell in love with me and wished to become my wife.