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 progressed so spasmodically, for the more appetizing the acquired delicacy, it seemed, the more mysteriously rapid its disappearance. The things that came to hand most readily were the very things least wanted. Freddie Stevens, for instance, found no apparent difficulty in supplying an unlimited amount of chow-chow and sweet pickle, but where were they to look for more substantial dishes with which to enjoy such delicious condiment?—though it must be admitted that three live chickens had squawked their last within the Greyhound's darkened cabin! An untried cook, however, had neglected to remove more than the feathers from the prize, with a result that they were nibbled at somewhat disdainfully, Piggie Brennan being the only member of the crew who could go in for them with any gusto.

A sort of Nemesis, indeed, seemed forever on the heels of those brave young pirates. If four custard pies mysteriously disappeared from a pantry window, they vanished with even greater mystery when once brought aboard the Greyhound. If there was a pound of gingerbread to be eaten, the Captain called