“Oh, then she’s here,” said Hiram. “They’re easy, these mossback fellers, Sime,” he added, turning to Peak. “It’s the old pickpocket trick. Jab a jay in the crowd and he flaps his hand onto where he’s carrying his wallet. Then all you have to do is to pick it.” Bodfish’s rage was gathering fast. Hiram stepped upon the wharf-end of the plank. “I say ye can’t come aboard,” shouted the skipper. “You ain’t no policeman and you ain’t no custom officer.” He pulled a marline-spike from a knot of rope at the rail. “You come in reach of me, you circus man, and I’ll drive that plug hat down so fur oh your shoulders that folks will have to slice it off with a can-opener.” “Ain’t your works gittin’ a little heated?” sarcastically queried Hiram. “Now, there’s a young woman aboard that bo’t that I’ve come after, and I’m goin’ to have her. You don’t know me and I don’t know you. You think you can stop me. I know you can’t. Now you’d better come over to my opinion of the case, Cap’n Nymp’ Bodfish, and save further wear and tear.” But the irate captain only stepped out on the plank and whirled his spike. “You ain’t got your pitchfork to-day, and you ain’t got no Klebe Willard to deal with, either.” “No, but I’ve got my grapplers,” shouted Hiram, and before the skipper could stir stump he snapped forward, grabbed the gang-plank and jerked it toward him. At the same time he tipped it and the captain of the “Effort” went down ’longside with a “kerplunko” that sent the turbid water above the wharf’s edge like the spout of a geyser. Hiram made two bounds, one to the rail and one to the deck. “Here, Mayo woman,” he cried, as he clumped down the companionway into the dim cabin, “no arguments, no back talk.” He seized her by the arm, rushed her up the steps and to the rail, and fairly tossed her across the space to the wharf, over the head of Captain Bodfish, who was blowing water from his mouth and nose, and clambering painfully up the side of the craft. “You ain’t cool yet. Take another dip,” cried Hiram, and he put his broad boot down on Bodfish’s head and sent him under again. The girl swayed dizzily on the wharf, but the showman had her in his grasp the next moment. He noted a hack bowling down the wharf and persons were sauntering that way, attracted by the unusual spectacle of a circus van. Without a moment’s hesitation he half-carried the woman to the rear of the van, threw open the double doors, pushed her in on some blankets that were spread on the floor, and closed and padlocked the opening. She was uttering sharp cries, but he put his mouth close to the crack and growled at her: “You’re goin’ home, you little fool. But if you let one more yip out of you I’ll deliver you to the first policeman I meet and tell him you’re an eloper. Then it’s State prison for you.” Her cries ceased and Hiram turned a bland face to the persons who had come up.