ouse, turned various matters over and over in his mind. His clues
pointed as clearly to Greasy as the Great Dipper points to the North
Star. He had decided to join the posse on the Haddon P. Rogers when
she set out on her next voyage of vengeance, but now he changed his
mind.

A barn, large and vacant, would be an excellent place in which to hide
the proceeds of a pirate raid. Lest--possibly--the barn should
recognize him and hide itself, Mr. Gubb first went to his office in
the Opera House Building, disguised himself as a hostler, with cowhide
boots, a cob pipe, a battered straw hat, and blue jean trousers. Lest
his face be recognized by the barn he wore a set of red under-chin
whiskers, which would have been more natural had they been a paler
shade of scarlet. Thus disguised, he crept softly down the Opera House
Building stairs and ran full into Billy Getz, Riverbank's best example
of the spoiled only-son species, and the town's inveterate jester. Mr.
Getz put a hand on Mr. Gubb's arm.

"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."

[Illustration: HE WORE A SET OF RED UNDER-CHIN WHISKERS]

"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 ru