me fix this." He winked at
Joe Henry. "You let me explain to Mr. Gubb, an' if he ain't satisfied,
why--all right."

For a moment Joe Henry studied Pie-Wagon's face, and then he put down
the slab.

"All right, you explain," he said ungraciously, and Philo Gubb raised
his white face above the counter.

* * * * *

Upon the passage of the State prohibitory law every saloon in
Riverbank had been closed and there had been growlings from the saloon
element. Five of the leading prohibitionists had received threatening
letters and, a few nights later, the houses of four of the five were
blown up. Kegs of powder had been placed in the cellar windows of each
of the four houses, wrecking them, and the fifth house was saved only
because the fuse there was damp. Luckily no one was killed, but that
was not the fault of the "dynamiters," as every one called them.

The town and State immediately offered a reward of five thousand
dollars for the arrest and conviction of the dynamiters, and
detectives flocked to Riverbank. Real detectives came to try for the
noble prize. Amateur detectives came in hordes. Citizens who were not
detectives at all tried their hands at the work.

For the first few days rumors of the immediate capture of the "ghouls"
were flying everywhere, but day followed day and week followed week,
and no one was incarcerated. The citizen-detectives went back to their
ordinary occupations, the amateur detectives went home, the real
detectives were called off on other and more promising jobs, and soon
the field was left clear for Philo Gubb.

Not that he made much progress. Each night he hid himself in the dark
doorway of Willcox Hall waiting to pick up (Lesson Four, Rule Four)
some suspicious-looking person, and having picked him up, he proceeded
to trail and shadow him (Lesson Four, Rules Four to Seventeen). Six
times--twice by Joe Henry--he was well beaten by those he followed. It
became such a nuisance to be followed by Philo Gubb in false mustache
or whiskers, that it was a public relief when Billy Getz and other
young fellows took upon themselves the duty of being shadowed. With
hats pulled over their eyes and coat-collars turned up, they would
pass the dark doorway of Willcox Hall, let themselves be picked up,
and then lead poor Detective Gubb across rubbish-encumbered vacant
lots, over mud flats or among dark lumber piles, only to give him the
slip with infinite ease when they