xican-looking chap?" Nicholas asked,
when they had departed to their various sloops. "He's Barchi, of the
Sporting Life Gang, and the fellow that came with him is Skilling.
They're both out now on five thousand dollars' bail."

I had heard of the Sporting Life Gang before, a crowd of hoodlums and
criminals that terrorized the lower quarters of Oakland, and
two-thirds of which were usually to be found in state's prison for
crimes that ranged from perjury and ballot-box stuffing to murder.

"They are not regular oyster pirates," Nicholas continued. "They've
just come down for the lark and to make a few dollars. But we'll have
to watch out for them."

We sat in the cockpit and discussed the details of our plan till
eleven o'clock had passed, when we heard the rattle of an oar in a
boat from the direction of the _Ghost_. We hauled up our own skiff,
tossed in a few sacks, and rowed over. There we found all the skiffs
assembling, it being the intention to raid the beds in a body.

To my surprise, I found barely a foot of water where we had dropped
anchor in ten feet. It was the big June run-out of the full moon, and
as the ebb had yet an hour and a half to run, I knew that our
anchorage would be dry ground before slack water.

Mr. Taft's beds were three miles away, and for a long time we rowed
silently in the wake of the other boats, once in a while grounding
and our oar blades constantly striking bottom. At last we came upon
soft mud covered with not more than two inches of water--not enough to
float the boats. But the pirates at once were over the side, and by
pushing and pulling on the flat-bottomed skiffs, we moved steadily
along.

The full moon was partly obscured by high-flying clouds, but the
pirates went their way with the familiarity born of long practice.
After half a mile of the mud, we came upon a deep channel, up which we
rowed, with dead oyster shoals looming high and dry on either side. At
last we reached the picking grounds. Two men, on one of the shoals,
hailed us and warned us off. But the Centipede, the Porpoise, Barchi,
and Skilling took the lead, and followed by the rest of us, at least
thirty men in half as many boats, rowed right up to the watchmen.

"You'd better slide outa this here," Barchi said threateningly, "or
we'll fill you so full of holes you wouldn't float in molasses."

The watchmen wisely retreated before so overwhelming a force, and
rowed their boat along the channel toward where