s way to proceed to do," said Philo Gubb, "and
if regular union wages is all right you can take that straight-edge
and trim all them Bessie John letters off this bundle of 7462 Bessie
John I'm sitting onto."

This was satisfactory to the stranger. He removed his greasy coat,
threw his greasy cap into a corner, wiped his greasy hands on a wad of
trimmings and set to work. When Mr. Gubb had completed his modest
luncheon he asked his name.

"Youse might as well call me Greasy," said the new employee. "I'm
greasier than anything. Got it off'n my motor-boat."

During the afternoon Philo Gubb learned something of his assistant's
immediate past. "Greasy" had saved some money, working at St. Paul,
and had bought a motor-boat--"Some boat!" he said; "Streak o'
Lightnin' was what I named her, and she was"--and he had come down the
Mississippi. "She can beat anything on the Dad," he said.

The "Dad" was his disrespectful paraphrase of "The Father of Waters,"
the title of the giant Mississippi. He told of his adventures until he
mentioned the Silver Sides. Then he swore in a manner that suited his
piratical countenance exactly.

He had been floating peacefully down the river with the current, his
power shut off and himself asleep in the bottom of the boat, doing no
harm to any one, when along came the Silver Sides, and without giving
him a warning signal, ran him down.

"Done it a-purpose, too," he said angrily.

He had managed to keep the boat afloat until he reached Riverbank, but
to fix her up would take more money than he had. So he had hunted a
job in his own line, and found Philo Gubb.

The Silver Sides, Captain Brooks, owner, was a small packet plying
between Derlingport and Bardenton, stopping at Riverbank, which was
midway between the two. No one knowing Captain Brooks would have
suspected him of running down anything whatever. He was a kind, stout,
gray-haired old gentleman. He had a nice, motherly old wife and eight
children, mainly girls, and they made their home on the Silver Sides.
Mrs. Brooks and the girls cooked for the crew and kept the boat as
neat as a new pin. Captain Brooks occupied the pilot-house; Tom Brooks
served as first mate, and Bill Brooks acted as purser. Altogether they
were a delightfully good-natured and well-meaning family. It was hard
to believe they would run down a helpless motor-boat in mid-river, but
Greasy swore to it, and about it.

During the next few weeks Greasy and the detectiv