ws the cod, an' the Fleet they know Dad
knows. 'See 'em comm' up one by one, lookin' fer nothin' in particular,
o' course, but scrowgin' on us all the time? There's the _Prince Leboo_;
she's a Chat-ham boat. She's crep' up sence last night. An' see that
big one with a patch in her foresail an' a new jib? She's the _Carrie
Pitman_ from West Chat-ham. She won't keep her canvas long onless her
luck's changed since last season. She don't do much 'cep' drift. There
ain't an anchor made 'll hold her. . . . When the smoke puffs up in
little rings like that, Dad's studyin' the fish. Ef we speak to him
now, he'll git mad. Las' time I did, he jest took an' hove a boot at
me."

Disko Troop stared forward, the pipe between his teeth, with eyes that
saw nothing. As his son said, he was studying the fish--pitting his
knowledge and experience on the Banks against the roving cod in his own
sea. He accepted the presence of the inquisitive schooners on the
horizon as a compliment to his powers. But now that it was paid, he
wished to draw away and make his berth alone, till it was time to go up
to the Virgin and fish in the streets of that roaring town upon the
waters. So Disko Troop thought of recent weather, and gales, currents,
food-supplies, and other domestic arrangements, from the point of view
of a twenty-pound cod; was, in fact, for an hour a cod himself, and
looked remarkably like one. Then he removed the pipe from his teeth.

"Dad," said Dan, "we've done our chores. Can't we go overside a piece?
It's good catchin' weather."

"Not in that cherry-coloured rig ner them ha'af baked brown shoes. Give
him suthin' fit to wear."

"Dad's pleased--that settles it," said Dan, delightedly, dragging
Harvey into the cabin, while Troop pitched a key down the steps. "Dad
keeps my spare rig where he kin overhaul it, 'cause Ma sez I'm
keerless." He rummaged through a locker, and in less than three minutes
Harvey was adorned with fisherman's rubber boots that came half up his
thigh, a heavy blue jersey well darned at the elbows, a pair of
nippers, and a sou'wester.

"Naow ye look somethin' like," said Dan. "Hurry!"

"Keep nigh an' handy," said Troop "an' don't go visitin' raound the
Fleet. If any one asks you what I'm cal'latin' to do, speak the
truth--fer ye don't know."

A little red dory, labelled Hattie S., lay astern of the schooner. Dan
hauled in the painter, and dropped lightly on to the bottom boards,
while Harvey tumbled clumsily