Since September, Jack Mallory had looked over the oyster-beds with real interest each morning when he arose. The melon crop for two years had been a failure and a loss. The season before, an epidemic of "green gills," which has no effect upon the oyster's flavor or wholesomeness, but which makes it utterly unsaleable, had swept over the Fiddler's Hill beds and not an oyster had been sold. Jack would finish high school in the spring, and he wanted to go to college in the autumn. Whether his wish was to be realized depended upon whether or not the oyster crop was a success. He already knew that there were green gills, and the lack of tonging the year before had allowed the oysters to attain another year's growth. The only things to be feared were markets and pirates. Neither had shown any dangerous symptoms until Christmas.

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Shortly after Christmas, reports came from Mobjack Bay of swept oyster-beds. At the

first report, Colonel Mallory warned his guards to be on the lookout. In January, word came from the mouth of the York that a pirate raid had been made and beds had been swept clean.

the duck-blinds. The marshes at the mouth of the river are fairly alive with ducks in the winter, and the city men waxed eloquent over their sport. Judge Hundley declared

Word also came that the pirates sailed a powered skip-jack. Jack made a personal appeal to each of the guards, and spent one night with Joe Deal, their captain, in order to impress upon him the importance of keeping a close watch.

In February, Corbin Mallory, Colonel Mallory's nephew, came down from Richmond with three friends for a day or two in

he found it hard to say which was the better, the sport in the marsh or the dinner which evening brought. Mr. Calvin and Mr. Ross were just as enthusiastic. The four visitors were all middle-aged men who were held closely in their offices by business, and the outing almost made them boys again.

On the Saturday after the visitors arrived, it was arranged for Jack to sail a "bug-eye,"

a two-masted sailing-vessel, loaded with barrels of oysters, to Gloucester Point for shipment on the early morning boat. In order to save trouble, it was decided that he was to unload the oysters at the wharf and then continue down to the duck-blinds.

The wind, which had blown half a gale all night, was dying down when Jack started to get ready to sail the next morning. The flying spray had frozen as it fell, and it took a good hour to get the sails up. The first streaks of dawn were just visible when he started to the house to call the hunters, who were waiting before a fire for him to get the bug-eye ready for the trip. As he walked over the brow of the hill, there came a sudden lull in the wind, and Jack thought he heard a splash as of a heavy body falling into the water beyond the marsh. There was no repetition of the sound, however, and he called the hunters.

Had Jack but realized the significance of that splash, he would have acted differently; for it was caused by the throwing overboard of a heavy dredge from the deck of the pirate skip-jack which had been dredging the Fiddler's Hill oyster-beds since midnight. While Jack had been getting the bug-eye ready, the skip-jack had been less than half a mile from him at the eastern edge of the beds. The pirates were starting their last haul when Jack heard the splash.

All night the skip-jack had been dredging under sail. The pirates knew that as soon as the guards heard the exhaust of the engine they would investigate. In the dark the vessel could work under sail without sound. The last dredge, however, they had planned to finish with the engine. The skip-jack under power was fast enough, even with the heavy load of oysters, to distance the power cunners. Therefore they had planned to sail up the river until the dredge was half full, then turn and, under power, dredge to the eastern end of the beds, raise the dredge, and get away before the cunners could get started.

Day was just coming in earnest when Jack sailed the bug-eye out of Fiddler's Creek into the river at the eastern end of the oysterbeds. Just before he rounded the point and made ready for the long tack which would carry him nearly across the river and half way to Gloucester Point, he heard the staccato pop-pop-pop of a gasolene engine. A minute later, straining his eyes through the half-light, he made out a skip-jack bearing down past the last of the guard-houses

and inside the stakes which marked off the oyster-beds.

Jack knew instinctively that the pirates had come, even if he had not noticed the pile of glistening oysters on deck. He saw at a glance, by the rate at which the skip-jack was moving, that the dredge was out and was holding back the vessel. He realized, however, that both the bug-eye and the cunners of the guards would never catch the skip-jack, once the dredge was hauled in.

He formed his plan without hesitation. The skip-jack, if kept on her course, would travel in a line parallel with the long tack of the bug-eye. With the dredge out, the bugeye could keep up with the skip-jack, and the cunners of the guards would be able to overhaul her. Jack's problem was to prevent the pirates from hauling in the dredge.

"Cousin Corbin," called Jack, excitedly, "get your guns ready, quick! There's an oyster-pirate coming out of the beds now, loaded down. We 've got to hold him until Joe Deal and the other guards come."

"What?" Mr. Mallory appeared at a loss. "Pirates? Will they resist?"

"Certainly they 'll resist," answered Jack. "Every one of them is armed and will certainly shoot if we try to stop them. But we 've got to stop them."

"How?" asked all four hunters, who by this time had crowded about the tiller which Jack held.

"We won't make any move," answered Jack, "until we get within a hundred yards of the skip-jack. By that time they will be ready to pull in the dredge. Then you-all open up with your guns and see if you can't drive them below. If we can hold them below so that they can't haul in the dredge, the guards can catch them, or the skip-jack will keep her course and run aground near Yorktown."

It may be well to explain, in case the reader is not familiar with small boats, that a bug-eye and a skip-jack are practically the same, except that the cabin of a bugeye is at the stern and the cabin of a skipjack is forward. If the pirates were driven below, they would have to leave the wheel untended and the vessel would maintain the course set.

The sun was just visible on the horizon and the four pirates were making ready to haul in the dredge when the bug-eye came within gunshot range. At one hundred yards, number-four shot will hardly kill a man, but will pepper him badly. Jack saw

Each of the hunters was crouched behind barrels and their guns projected between.

"All ready," called Jack. "Shoot for their legs!"

As he spoke he threw the tiller over to bring the bug-eye broadside to the skip-jack, and the negro sailor hauled in the sheets for the long tack.

The four duck-guns roared forth a salute, and the four pirates yelled with pain as the pellets peppered their legs. They dropped the hawsers attached to the dredge and for a moment stood undecided what to do. A second roar, as the second barrels of the duckguns were discharged, and the pirates made a dash for the shelter of the cabin.

"Stick behind your barrels," called Jack, "and shoot at anything that shows!"

A moment later, there came a crack from the little window in the skip-jack's cabin and a Winchester bullet smashed into the barrel behind which Jack was crouched.

eye. The untended sails of the former were not drawing properly, and the vessel fell off perceptibly.

The four hunters, with ammunition enough for a day's ducking, kept up an almost continuous bombardment, and the pirates, having a taste of number-four shot, remained below. Four rifles, however, answered the bombardment, and Jack, upon whom the course of the bug-eye depended, was the target. Two bullets had "smacked" against the tiller within a foot of his hand, and half a dozen had crashed into the barrels of oysters, one of them so close that his face had been spattered with oyster-shell and juice. Only one hand and forearm, however, was exposed and, in the heavy sea that was running, they made a poor mark.

Before the vessels had traveled half a mile, Jack's straining ears caught the sound of the power cunners of the guards far behind him. Peeping over the edge of an

oyster-barrel, he saw the five of them, strung out in a long line, led by the big white launch of Joe Deal, their captain, coming under all power. The guards had been

"Shoot one at a time," he called.

"Aye, aye, Captain!" chuckled Judge Hundley, behind his barrels. "I was just wondering how long I could keep up this

firing-at-will before the gun became redhot."

A second later, Jack felt as though someone had smashed him across the wrist with a stick. A soft big-caliber bullet had crushed through his forearm, smashing the bone. The heavy tiller slipped through his nerveless hand, and the bug-eye began to come up into the wind. Clenching his teeth to keep back a cry of pain, Jack snatched at the tiller with his other hand and threw his weight against it. The heavy boat came slowly back into its course, and the bombardment continued as before. None of the hunters had seen what had happened.

The blood gushed out of the wound in bright red jets, and Jack knew that it would have to be tied up at once.

"Jim," he called to the sailor, "come aft. Quick!"

The negro crawled on hands and knees behind a line of oysterbarrels. A moment later, a rough bandage had been tied around the arm; and although it throbbed fiercely, the flow of blood was stopped. Jim had to crawl back to handle the sails, and Jack was again left alone to steer the boat.

roused by the bombardment and knew exactly what had happened.

Three miles ahead lay Yorktown, and Jack began to wonder whether Joe Deal and the guards would catch them before they reached there. Whether they did or not, he knew that as long as the pirates were kept in the cabin they were beaten. He wondered if the hunters had shells enough.

He felt weak and sick and was horribly afraid that he would faint. He clutched the tiller with all his strength and prayed for speed for the cunners and Joe Deal. The guards, he could see, were still far behind.

He wondered hazily whether they would ever catch up.

A loud "Boom!" drew his attention from the pursuing cunners. Dead ahead he saw a low, rakish steamer, armed with a swivelgun forward and crowded with men. He immediately recognized the vessel as the Virginia patrol-boat, and a great relief came to him. Whether the cunners caught up or not, the pirates were safely caught.

"Hey!" he called to the bombarders, "cease firing. It's all right." Then he rolled forward on the deck.

When Jack Mallory came to himself he heard Corbin Mallory talking.

"One of the finest things I ever saw!" he was saying. "The boy just took charge and planned his own way. I believe we should

have captured them, anyway, if the shells had held out. But that boy never wavered. We did n't even know he was hit until he fainted."

Jack opened his eyes and looked straight into the face of the captain of the patrol

boat. The old bay-man's gray eyes twinkled. "That 's right, old man," he said, "come up smiling. You are a game lad, and I shall so report to the authorities. And you'll get the reward that 's been offered for these pirates, for you captured them. If you had n't held them as you did, they would have slipped past me without my knowing who they were.'

Jack's heart pounded so hard at these words that he was afraid the others would hear it. A sob came up in his throat, and he swallowed hard to keep back the tears. It would n't do to cry, so he looked down at his arm, which was throbbing again.

"I expect we had better get this attended to," he said, with all the composure he could command.

The men smiled. They could see that he was making a tremendous effort to keep his self-control. Judge Hundley patted him on the shoulder and, as if it were premeditated, said in chorus with the others:

"Aye, aye, Captain Mallory!"

THROUGHOUT the year, Phyllis Webster had done her best. But her best had never been quite good enough. She had tried for the hocky team in the fall; under her leadership, the "Scrub" had given the Manor the hard, fast practice it had needed to win its big game. She might have had a chance at basket-ball had not the seven all been vetBut that had not kept her off the floor throughout the winter, even though all her baskets had been scored for the Second. She had tried for "The Manor News," had worked hard as a member of the junior dance-committee, and twice she had almost led her class in term standing, but never had she succeeded in reaching her goal.

erans.

It hurt. None of the hundred and fifty girls at the Manor dreamed how it hurt. Phyllis had come to the famous school under unusual circumstances. Her mother had been "Head Girl" in her day, and her grandmother had been in the Manor's first class. Phyllis was the first granddaughter in the school. She had the traditions of two gen

erations to live up to, and not only the girls, but the older teachers, expected much of her, and she herself demanded more.

She was wondering, as she came out of the dining-hall, what her next disappointment would be probably failure to be chosen one of the six junior ushers for commencement. But then she laughed softly. Of course that honor would not come to her. Why should it? She had done about as much to merit it as she had to have Mabel Trafford hand on to her the tattered old Manor flag, symbol of office of "Head Girl."

"What's the joke, Phil?" demanded Alice Storm, slipping an arm around her waist. "I need to laugh after the spectacle I made of myself in English."

"That was funny," owned Phil. "Bacon might have written 'Twelfth Night,' but no one in the world but you would ever have guessed Defoe did. You can't blame Miss Weeks for nearly having a fit, Allie."

"Who's trying to? She can have two fits without my blaming her a single blame.