Were you ever there?"

"I never was there, and I question if you were ever there."

"Do you mean to question my veracity?" demanded Christy, knitting his brow.

"Oh, no, not at all!"

"Very well; and when you go to Shensibangerwhang, I shall be glad to see you; and then I will endeavor to answer all the questions you desire to ask."

"I thought you came from that steamer over there."

"Thought made a world, but it wasn't your thought that did it."

"Of course you know the name of that steamer."

"Oh, now I think of her name! That is the Chicherwitherwing, and she belongs to the Chinese navy. She is sent out on a voyage of discovery to find the north pole, which she expects to reach here in the West Indies.

When she finds it, I will let you know by mail, if you will give me your address," rattled Christy with abundant self-possession.

"No, no, now! You are chaffing me."

"Do you know, brother mortal of mine, that I suspect you are a Yankee; for they say they live on baked beans, and earn the money to buy the pork for them by asking questions."

"I am not a Yankee; I am a long way from that."

"Then perhaps you sympathize with the meridonial section of the nation on the other side of the Gulf Stream."

"Which section?" asked the stranger, looking a little puzzled.

"The meridonial section."

"Which is that? I don't know which meridian you mean."

"I mean no meridian. Perhaps the word is a little irregular; I studied French when I was in the Bangerwhangerlang College in China, and I am sometimes apt to get that language mixed up with some other. Let me see, we were speaking just now, were we not?"

"I was."

"Sometimes I can't speak any English, and I had forgotten about it.

If you prefer to carry on this conversation in Hebrew or Hindostanee, I shall not object," added Christy gravely.

"I think I can do better with English."

"Have your own way about it; but 'meridonial' in French means 'southern,' if you will excuse me for making the suggestion."

"Then I am meridonial," replied the stranger, and he seemed to make the admission under the influence of a sudden impulse.

"Your hand on that!" promptly added Christy, extending his own.

"All right!" exclaimed the other. "My name is Percy Pierson. What is yours?"

"Percy Pierson!" exclaimed Christy, starting back with astonishment, as though his companion had fired a pistol in his face.

"What is the matter now?" demanded Percy Pierson, surprised at the demonstration of the other.

"What did you say your name was? Did I understand you aright?"

"I said my name was Percy Pierson. Is there any thing surprising about that?" asked Percy, puzzled at the demeanor of Christy.

"See here, my jolly high-flyer, who told you my name?" demanded the son of the owner of the Bellevite, with a certain amount of indignation in his manner.

"You did not, to be sure, though I asked you what it was."

"What sort of a game are you trying to play off on me? I am an innocent young fellow of sixteen, and I don't like to have others playing tricks on me. Who told you my name, if you please?"

"No one told me your name; and I don't know yet what it is, though I have asked it of you."

"Oh, get away with you! You are playing off something on me which I don't understand, and I think I had better bid you good-morning," added Christy, as he started to move off.

"Then you won't tell me your name. Stay a minute."

"You know my name as well as I do, and you are up to some trick with me," protested Christy, halting.

"'Pon my honor as a Southern gentleman, I don't know your name."

"If you are a Southern gentleman, I must believe you, for I did not come from as far north as I might have come. My name is Percy Pierson," added Christy seriously; for he felt that this was actually war, and that the strategy that does not always or often speak the truth was justifiable.

"Percy Pierson!" exclaimed the real owner of the name. "Didn't I just tell you that was my name?"

"Undoubtedly you did, and that is the reason why I thought you were making game of me."

"But how can that be when my name is Percy Pierson?"

"Give it up; but I suggest that in London, where I came from, there are acres of King Streets, almost as many Queens; and, though you may not be aware of the fact, there are seven thousand two hundred and twenty-seven native and foreign born citizens of the name of John Smith. Possibly you and I are the only two Percy Piersons in the country, or in the world."

"Now you say you are from London, and a little while ago you said you were from farther north than I am. Which is it?"

"Isn't London farther north than any Southern State?"

"Enough of this," continued Percy impatiently.

"Quite enough of it," a.s.sented Christy.

"Will you tell me what steamer that is, where she is bound, and what she is here for?"

"My dear Mr. Pierson, it would take me forty-eight hours to tell you all that," replied the representative of the Bellevite, taking out his watch. "If you will meet me here to-morrow night at sundown, I will make a beginning of the yarn, and I think I can finish it in two days. But really you must excuse me now; for I have to dine with the Chinese admiral at noon, and I must go at once."

"I can put the owner of that craft in the way of making a fortune for himself, if he is willing to part with her," added Percy, as his companion began to move off.

"That is just what the owner of that steamer wants to do: he desires to part with her, and he is determined to get rid of her. I have the means of knowing that he will let her go just as soon as he can possibly get rid of her."