o have heard of the affair, and when, at eight
o'clock, Philo Gubb entered the vacant Himmeldinger house, which he
was decorating, he started with surprise to see Greasy already there.
He had not expected to see him at all. But there he was, trimming the
edge of a roll of Dietz's 7462 Bessie John, and as he turned to greet
Mr. Gubb, the detective saw in Greasy's greasy tie what seemed to be
his own opal scarf-pin.

"That there," said Mr. Gubb sternly, "is a nice scarf-pin you've got
into your tie."

"Ain't it?" said Greasy proudly. "Me new lady-friend give it to me
last night."

To Greasy, Detective Gubb said nothing. He was not yet ready to act.
But to himself he muttered:--

"Scarf-pin--scarf-pin. That there is a clue I had ought to look into."

In the town excitement was high all day. There was some time wasted
while the Chief of Police and the County Sheriff tried to discover
which was compelled by law to fight pirates, but the Chief of Police
finally put the job on the Sheriff's hands, and the old Fourth of July
cannon was loaded with powder and nails and put on the bow of the
good ferry-boat Haddon P. Rogers, a posse of about three hundred men
with shotguns and army muskets was crowded aboard, and the
pirate-catcher got under way.

This was, of course, Monday, and Monday the Silver Sides made her
usual down-river trip to Bardenton, leaving in the morning and
returning late at night. It was usually two o'clock at night when she
tied up at the Riverbank levee, but this time two o'clock came without
the Silver Sides. There was a good reason. As the packet neared Hog
Island, about two miles below the Towhead, on her return trip, Uncle
Jerry heard the sputter of a gas engine and saw dart out from below
Hog Island the same low black craft that had carried the pirates
before. Even before the craft was within range, the revolvers began to
spit at the Silver Sides.

"Well, dang them pirates to the dickens!" exclaimed Uncle Jerry. "If
they be goin' to keep up this nonsense I'm goin' to get down-right mad
at 'em." But he signaled the engine-room to slow down, as if it was
getting to be a habit with him. One of the upper panes, just above his
line of vision, clattered down as he pulled the bell-rope.

At the first volley, Ma Brooks and her daughters dashed into the
galley and slammed the door. The remainder of the male Brookses made
two jumps to the coal bins and began burrowing into the coal, and the
three non-Bro