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“Sh-h!” he said mysteriously. “Not a word. Only by chance did I recognize you, Mr. Gubb. Now, about this pirate business–it has to stop.”

“I am proceeding to the deteckative work preliminary to so doing,” said Mr. Gubb.

“Good!” said Billy Getz. “Because I can’t have such things happening on my Mississippi River. I hate to see the dear old river get a bad name, Mr. Gubb. I’m just organizing the Dear Old River Anti-Pirate League–to suppress pirates, you know. And we want you as our official detective. In the meantime–Greasy! That’s all I say–just Greasy! Tough-looking character. Lives in a barn.”

“I am just proceeding to locate the whereabouts of the barn,” said Mr. Gubb.

“That’s easy,” said Billy Getz. “Hampton’s barn–Eighth Street alley. I know, because I’ve been there. He’s doing our scenery for the Kalmuck summer show. You go straight up this street–or no, you’d go in the opposite direction, and three miles into the country, and back across the cemetery, as advised in Lesson Thirteen, wouldn’t you?”

“There are only twelve lessons,” said Mr. Gubb haughtily and stalked away. He went, however, to Hampton’s barn, climbed in through the alley window, and searched the place.

The barn contained nothing of interest. A cot stood at one end of the hay-loft; and stretched across the wall at the other end was a canvas on which was a partly completed scene of a ruined castle, with mountains in the distance. On the floor were pails and brushes, bundles of dry colors, glue, and the various articles needed by a scene-painter. Mr. Gubb looked behind the canvas. No loot was concealed there. He returned to his office, discarded his disguise, and went back to the Himmeldinger house. Seated on the front steps, quite neglecting his work, was Greasy, and beside him sat a girl.

“This,” said Greasy, “is Maggie Tiffkins. Youse ought to know her. Mag, consider this a proper knockdown to P. Gubb, my boss.”

That night the Silver Sides was attacked by the pirates on her return from Derlingport. The next morning Mr. Gubb awaited Greasy’s coming impatiently, hoping for a new clue, but Greasy had none. He was glum. He had had a quarrel with Maggie, and he was cross.

“Last job of work I’ll ever do for Billy Getz and them Kalmucks of his’n,” he said crossly. “He’s gettin’ worse and worse. Them first two scenes I painted he kicked enough about: said the forest scene looked like a roast-beef sandwich, and asked me if the parlor scene was a bar-room or a cow-pasture, but when I do a first-class old bum castle and he wants to know if it’s a lib’ry interior, I get hot. And so would youse.”

* * * * *

For three nights the Silver Sides, now protected by the presence of part of the armed posse, was not disturbed, but on the fourth night the low, black pirate craft boldly attacked the steamer, carrying on a running fight. The pirates did not venture to board her, but the piratical business was getting to be an unbearable nuisance to Uncle Jerry Brooks. A dozen small craft were armed and patrolled the river. On the fourteenth night, when the Silver Sides was up-river on her Derlingport trip, the Jane P., the opposition steamer making the same ports, was boldly attacked by the pirates and lost the most precious part of her cargo. It was then determined to exterminate the pirates at any cost.

Once only had a steamer been attacked above the town, and this seemed to indicate that the pirates had their nest below Riverbank, and this was the more likely as the river below town gave far greater opportunities for hiding the pirate boat during the day. There were several sloughs or bayous and many indentations of the shore-line, while above the town there was none. Above the town the shores sloped back from the river’s edge, and even a skiff on the shore could be seen from across the river. The search for the pirate vessel was therefore conducted below the town, but most unsuccessfully.