"Well, what d'you think o' that!" Bob stared at his chum as the stoop-shouldered figure vanished up the companion. "Pirate! Say, do you reckon he ever saw a pirate ship? I guess dad has things twisted about him, eh?"
"I'm not so sure," returned Mart slowly, thinking of that firm chin and knotted hand. "I'm not so sure, Holly. You can't go by what you read in books, always. Sure, I know he's a nice old fellow, but he's a queer fish just the same. And as for bein' a pirate, there's that man Morris, who's workin' on the Tribune now as city editor. He's as quiet and nice as you ever see 'em, but they say he's been all kinds of things. That shows you, Holly, that you can't go by looks."
"Anyhow, I guess he's reformed by now," stated Bob decisively. "And pirating is out of date these days. He's only an interesting character, as the books say."
"He sure is," agreed Mart promptly. "Say, Holly, we're going to have a whopper of a time in the next month or so, ain't we?"
Bob grinned happily. "You're dead right, old boy! Say, it's noon—"
"By golly, that's right! When do we eat? I'm some empty."
"Right now. Ah Sing has the grub ready, I guess. Hike along, you pirate!"
And Mart hiked with a wide grin.