‘How’s it look?’ demanded Pud triumphantly as he sent the last tack home and raised a flushed countenance to Tim. ‘All right,’ answered the other doubtfully, ‘only――’ ‘Only what?’ ‘I never saw “Roger” spelled with a “d,” Pud.’ ‘Why not? R-o-d, Rod, g-e-r, ger; Rodger. Isn’t that right?’ Tim shook his head. ‘There isn’t any “d,” Pud.’ Pud scratched his bare head sheepishly. Then he grinned. ‘Oh, well, what’s the diff? I guess lots of pirates didn’t spell any better than I do! Look, here’s the one for the other side.’ He held up a second strip of oilcloth and Tim read VENGANCE. This time he didn’t have the heart to correct the spelling. ‘Fine,’ he said, ‘but what’s the idea of having different names?’ ‘Well, I couldn’t decide which was the best. Besides, Tim, maybe it’ll confuse the enemy.’ ‘Sure,’ agreed the other gravely. Harmon watched operations in solemn, uncomprehending silence, noiselessly spelling the word out. Pud’s hammer tap-tapped for a minute and then there was nothing left to inform the beholder that this apparently piratical craft was in fact only the hitherto entirely respectable _Kismet_. But Pud wasn’t through even yet. Next appeared what looked to have been part of a pillow-slip. This was decorated with a skull-and-cross-bones, none too successfully executed since the paint had run rather badly in places. It took Pud quite five minutes to get the thing tacked to the flagpole, and then, tossing down his hammer, he waded back to shore and stood for an equal length of time in rapt contemplation of the improvements. There wasn’t nearly enough breeze blowing to display the gruesome emblem on the flag, but Pud seemed thoroughly satisfied, and even Tim was thrilled a little by the wicked appearance of the transformed launch. As for Harmon, curiosity at last got the better of him. ‘What ’at flag for?’ he asked. ‘That’s the pirate’s flag,’ Pud informed him. ‘We’re going to be pirates, Harmon.’ ‘Uh-huh. How we gets to be ’em?’ Pud winked at Tim and answered gravely: ‘Oh, we kill folks and rob them, you know; run them down and scuttle their ships and cut off their heads and――’ You never could tell beforehand, it seemed, what would touch off Harmon’s peculiar sense of humor. Now he dropped suddenly to the grass and writhed in uproarious delight. His teeth flashed and his eyes rolled and his bare heels beat a wild tattoo on the turf. For an instant the others were too surprised to do anything save stare. Pud, indeed, was a trifle chagrined that his explanation had failed to impress Harmon as he had meant it to. But there was no resisting the contagion of that laughter, and after a moment they joined in, their amusement occasioned, though, solely by Harmon’s ridiculous antics. Harmon ceased almost as suddenly as he had begun and sat up, supported by widespread hands, and viewed them gravely. Pud conquered his mirth and demanded sternly: