t was said that when he once got his hands on a silver dollar he
squeezed it so hard that the bird of freedom on it uttered a squawk.

He opened Philo Gubb's door hesitatingly. He expected to see an array
of mahogany desks and filing cabinets for which he would have to pay
every time the detective turned around. When he peered into the room
he saw a tall, thin man in white overalls with a bib, sitting on an
up-ended bundle of wall-paper, stirring a pail of paste with one hand
while he ate a ham sandwich by means of the other.

"I guess I got in the wrong place," said Uncle Gabe. "Thought this was
a detective office. All right! All right!"

"I'm him," said Philo Gubb, swallowing a hunk of sandwich with a gulp
and wiping his hand on his overalls.

"You're who?" asked Uncle Gabe.

"I'm the deteckative," said Philo Gubb.

"You are, hey?" said Uncle Gabe. "All disguised up, I reckon."

"Disguised up?" said Philo questioningly. "Oh, this here paper-hanging
and decorating stuff? No, this ain't no disguise. Even a deteckative
has got to earn a living while his practice is building up."

"Humph!" said old Gabe. "Detecting ain't very good right now?"

"It ain't, for a fact," said Philo.

"Well, if that's so," said old Gabe, "maybe you and me could do
business. If you want to do a little detective work to sort of keep
your hand in, maybe we can do business."

"I ought to git paid something," said Philo doubtfully.

"Pay!" exclaimed old Gabe. "Pay for bein' allowed to sharpen up and
keep bright? Why, you'd ought to pay me for lettin' you have the
practice. It ain't goin' to do me no good, is it?"

"I don't know what you want me to detect yet," said Philo. "I might
pay some if it was a case that would do me good to practice on. I
might pay a little."

"I knew it," said old Gabe. "Now, this case of mine--What sort of a
case _would_ you pay to work on?"

"Well," said Philo thoughtfully, "if I was to have a chance at a real
tough murder case, for instance."

"Humph!" said old Gabe. "How much might you pay to be let work on a
case like that?"

"Well, I dunno!" said Philo Gubb thoughtfully. "If it looked like a
mighty hard case I might pay a dollar a day--if it was a murder case."

"This case of mine," said old Gabe, coming farther into the room, "is
just that sort of a case. And I'll let you work on it for a dollar and
a quatter a day."

"Well, if it's that kind of a case," said Philo slowly, "I'll give you
a dol