After neatly and carefully turning up the bottoms of his trousers so that they should not get wet, the False Hare bounded on a rock that rose out of the water a few feet from shore, and stood ready to direct the landing of the boat. There was some sense in this, for certainly neither of the two mice was what could be called good oarsmen. One of them had just unshipped the little sail, and—not seeming to know what else to do with it—had cut it loose from the oar that served as a mast and wrapped it round and round his body, tying himself tightly with a piece of string.

Rudolf thought he had never in his life seen people in a boat do so many queer and unnecessary things in so short a time as those two mice did. They would stop rowing every few minutes and begin sweeping out the floor of their boat with a small broom, dusting seats, cushions, and oar-locks with a little feather duster tied with a pink ribbon. Then, after a few, rapid, nervous strokes at the oars, one or the other of them would pull his blade out of the water and polish it anxiously with his handkerchief, as if the important thing was to keep it dry. They would probably never have reached land that day if this had depended on their own efforts, but luckily the breeze was blowing them in the right direction.

All this time the False Hare had been waiting on the rock, and now as the boat was almost within reach, he began leaping up and down, clapping his paws and calling out in the heartiest tones: "Go it, my dear old Salts! Hurrah, my fine Jack Tars! You're a pair of swell old sea-dogs, you are. Only don't hurt yourselves, you know. We wouldn't like to see you work!"

It seemed as if the white mice knew the False Hare and the value of his remarks, for they made no attempt to answer him, but only looked more and more frightened and uncomfortable. When their boat was at last beached, they jumped out of it, turned their backs to the rest of the party, and standing as close together as they could get, gazed anxiously out over the water. Seen close by there was something familiar about the look of these mice to the three children, yes, even though they had grown a great deal, and had disguised themselves by the simple method of licking the chocolate off each other! Rudolf and Ann hoped Peter would not notice it, but nothing of the sort ever escaped him. He walked around in front of the two mice, who tried vainly not to meet his eye, looked at them long and earnestly, and said:

"I say, Mr. Mouses, was you always white?"

The mice turned a pale greenish color in their embarrassment and looked nervously at each other, but answered never a word.

"I thought," continued Peter, staring steadily at them, "that last time I saw you you was choc'late. Did you wash it off—on purpose?" he added sternly.

"Excuse me, sir, we don't believe in washing," muttered one of the poor things hastily.

Ann shook her head at Peter. "Hush!" she whispered. "You mustn't be rude to them when they are going to lend us their boat so kindly." Then she asked in a loud voice, hoping to change the subject: "Who is going to row? Will you, Mr. False Hare?"

"Why certainly, dearie, I adore rowing," said the False Hare sweetly.

"Then you will have to, Rudolf, and I will look after Peter. 'He is always so apt to fall out of a boat. I dare say the mice will be glad of a rest."

They all got into the boat, Rudolf took the oars, Ann sat in the bow with Peter beside her, and the False Hare settled himself comfortably in the stern with a mouse squeezed on either side of him. He wanted to pet them a little, so he said, but from the strained expressions on their faces and the startled squeaks they gave from time to time, it seemed as if they were hardly enjoying his attentions. The children loved being on the water better than anything else, and they would have been perfectly happy now, if the False Hare had not had quite so many nice compliments to make to Rudolf on his rowing, and if the white mice had not complained so bitterly of them all for "sitting all over the boat cushions," and "wetting the nice dry oars!" They were enjoying themselves very much, in spite of this, when suddenly Ann, who had very sharp eyes, called out:

"Sail ahead!"

At first Rudolf thought she had said this just because it sounded well, but on turning his head he saw for himself a small boat heading toward them as fast as it could come. A moment more and the children could see the black flag floating at its masthead.

"Oh, oh!" screamed Ann, "that's a skull and cross-bones. It's a pirate ship!"

"Hurrah!" Rudolf shouted. "How awfully jolly! Just like a book."

"Dee-lightful!" the False Hare exclaimed, shuddering all over to the tips of his whiskers. "If there's one thing I do dote on it is pirates—dear old things!"

As for the two white mice, after one glance at the ship, they gave two little shrieks and hid their faces in their paws.

Rudolf shipped his oars while he loosened his sword. "I shall be prepared to fight," said he, "though I am afraid we must make up our minds to being captured. Our enemy's boat is not so large—it's not much more than a catboat—but there are only four of us, as the mice don't count, and I suppose there must be at least a dozen of the pirates."

The False Hare smiled a sickly sort of smile. "And such nice ones," he murmured. "Such gentle, well-behaved, well-brought-up, polite pirates! Just the sort your dear parents would like to have you meet. Those fellows don't know anything about shooting, stabbing, mast-heading or plank-walking; oh, no! They don't do such things."

Ann turned pale at the False Hare's words, but Rudolf only laughed. "What luck!" he exclaimed. "I'm nine years old and I've never seen a real live pirate, and goodness knows when I ever will again—I wouldn't miss this for anything." Then, as he saw how really worried his little sister looked, he added cheerfully. "They may sail right past without speaking to us, you know."

But this was not to be the case. Nearer and nearer came the pirate craft until at last the children could see, painted in black letters on her side, her name, The Merry Mouser. A group of pirates was gathered at the rail, staring at the rowboat through their glasses. There was no mistake about these fellows being pirates—that was easy enough to see from their queer bright-colored clothes and the number of weapons they carried, even if the ugly black flag had not been floating over their heads. At the bow stood he who was evidently the Pirate Chief. He was dressed in some kind of tight gray and white striped suit with a red sash tied round his waist stuck full of shiny-barreled pistols and long bright-bladed knives. A red turban decorated his head and under it his brows met in the fiercest kind of frown. His arms were folded on his breast. As Rudolf looked at this fellow, he began to have the queerest feeling that somewhere—somehow—under very different conditions—he had seen the Pirate Chief before!

Just at that instant he heard the sound of a struggle behind him, and turning round he saw that Peter had become terribly excited. "Mittens! Mittens!" he screamed, and breaking loose from Ann's hold, he stood up and leaned so far over the side of the boat that he lost his balance and fell into the water. Ann screamed, the False Hare—I am ashamed to say—merely yawned and kept his paws in his pockets. Rudolf had kicked off his shoes and was ready to jump in after Peter, when he saw that quick as a flash, on an order from their Chief, the pirates had lowered a long rope with something bobbing at the end of it. Peter when he came to the surface, seized this rope and was rapidly hauled on board the pirate ship.

Ann came near falling overboard herself in her excitement. "Oh, Ruddy, Ruddy!" she begged, "let's surrender right away quick. We can't leave poor darling Peter to be carried off by those terrible cats."

"Cats?" said Rudolf, staring stupidly at the pirates. "Why so they are cats, Ann! Somehow I hadn't noticed that before. But, look, they are sending a boat to us now."

In a small boat which had been towed behind the catboat, a couple of pirates—big, rough-looking fellows—were sculling rapidly toward the children. Cats indeed they were, but such cats as Ann and Rudolf had never seen before, so big and black and bold were they, their teeth so sharp and white, their eyes so round and yellow! One had a red sash and one a green, and each carried knives and pistols enough to set up a shop.

"Surrender!" they cried in a businesslike kind of way as they laid hold of the bow of the rowboat, "or have your throats cut—just as you like, you know."

Of course the children didn't like, and then, as Ann said, they had to remember Peter. Much against his will, Rudolf was now forced to surrender his beloved sword. The False Hare handed over all his belongings—his jewelry, his suit case, and his little umbrella—without the slightest hesitation, humming a tune as he did so, but his voice cracked, and Ann and Rudolf noticed that the tip of his nose had turned quite pale. The prisoners were quickly transferred to the other boat, and the pirate with the green sash took the oars. Just as all was ready for the start the cat in red cried:

"Hold on a minute, Growler! I'll just jump back into their old tub to see if we've left any vallybles behind!"

"All right, Prowler."

It was then and only then that Rudolf and Ann remembered the two white mice! The last time they had noticed them was at the moment of Peter's ducking when in their excitement, the foolish creatures had hidden their faces on each other's shoulders, rolled themselves into a kind of ball, and stowed themselves under a seat. Prowler leaped into the little boat which the pirates had fastened by a tow-rope to their own, and during his search he kept his back turned to his companions. He was gone but a moment, and when he returned his whiskers were very shiny, and he was looking extremely jolly as he hummed a snatch of a pirate song.

"Find anything?" asked Growler, eying him suspiciously. "If you did, and don't fork it out before the Chief, you'll catch it. 'Twill be as much as your nine lives are worth!"

"Oh, 'twas nothing—nothing of any importance," answered Prowler airily.

Rudolf and Ann looked at each other, but neither of them spoke. Both the pirate cats now settled to the oars and the boat skimmed along the water in the direction of the Merry Mouser. As they drew alongside, Growler muttered in a not unfriendly whisper:

"Look here, youngsters, here's a word of advice that may save you your skins. Don't show any cheek—not to me or Prowler, we're the mates—and above all, not to the Chief!"

"What is your Chief's name, Mr. Growler, dear sir?" asked Ann timidly.

Growler flashed his white teeth at her. Then he looked at Prowler and both mates repeated together as if they were saying a lesson: "The name of our illustrious Chief is Captain Mittens—Mittens, the Pitiless Pirate—Mittens, the Monster of the Main!"

"Why—why—my Aunt Jane had a tiger cat once with white paws—" Ann began, but then she stopped suddenly, for Rudolf had given her a sharp pinch. A terrible frown had spread over the faces of both Growler and Prowler. "Above all," whispered the mate in low and earnest tones, "none of that! If you don't want to be keel-hauled, don't recall his shameful past!"