nows when one's taking one's biggest risks," he said. "It
might have been worse than drowning; but I don't think it has--I don't
think it has. If it hasn't, I haven't enough to pay Troop, that's all;
and I don't think it has."

Morning brought a fresh sea breeze through the windows, the "Constance"
was side-tracked among freight-cars at Gloucester, and Harvey had gone
to his business.

"Then he'll fall overboard again and be drowned," the mother said
bitterly.

"We'll go and look, ready to throw him a rope in case. You've never
seen him working for his bread," said the father.

"What nonsense! As if any one expected--"

"Well, the man that hired him did. He's about right, too."

They went down between the stores full of fishermen's oilskins to
Wouverman's wharf where the _We're Here_ rode high, her Bank flag still
flying, all hands busy as beavers in the glorious morning light. Disko
stood by the main hatch superintending Manuel, Penn, and Uncle Salters
at the tackle. Dan was swinging the loaded baskets inboard as Long Jack
and Tom Platt filled them, and Harvey, with a notebook, represented the
skipper's interests before the clerk of the scales on the
salt-sprinkled wharf-edge.

"Ready!" cried the voices below. "Haul!" cried Disko. "Hi!" said
Manuel. "Here!" said Dan, swinging the basket. Then they heard Harvey's
voice, clear and fresh, checking the weights.

The last of the fish had been whipped out, and Harvey leaped from the
string-piece six feet to a ratline, as the shortest way to hand Disko
the tally, shouting, "Two ninety-seven, and an empty hold!"

"What's the total, Harve?" said Disko.

"Eight sixty-five. Three thousand six hundred and seventy-six dollars
and a quarter. 'Wish I'd share as well as wage."

"Well, I won't go so far as to say you hevn't deserved it, Harve. Don't
you want to slip up to Wouverman's office and take him our tallies?"

"Who's that boy?" said Cheyne to Dan, well used to all manner of
questions from those idle imbeciles called summer boarders.

"Well, he's kind o' supercargo," was the answer. "We picked him up
struck adrift on the Banks. Fell overboard from a liner, he sez. He was
a passenger. He's by way o' hem' a fisherman now."

"Is he worth his keep?"

"Ye-ep. Dad, this man wants to know ef Harve's worth his keep. Say,
would you like to go aboard? We'll fix up a ladder for her."

"I should very much, indeed. 'Twon't hurt you, Mama, and you'll be able
to see for you