tchman smiles, and, as he is a knowing old fellow, cries out,
when he reaches the corner by Skipper Worse's house, "Wind
north-west! The herring is on the coast!"

More boats and smacks arrive; the rattling of anchors and chain
cables is heard in all directions. Men knock at the walls of the
warehouses, and people sally forth with lanterns, doors are thrown
open, and the light falls on the men yonder in a boat, and on the
heaps of fat, glittering spring herrings.

Up in the town the merchant's house resounds as the man with the
sea-boots picks up a stone and hammers at the wall. He strikes
boldly, knowing that he brings welcome news.

All arouse themselves, thinking at first that it is a fire; but the
master of the house springing up, throws the window open.

"Ivar Ostebo sends his compliments. He has bought four hundred
barrels on your account."

"Do you know the price?"

"Three marks eighteen shillings. We are lying off the northern
warehouse with eighty barrels; the rest is close behind."

"How is the wind?"

"North-westerly, with snow-storms."

"Run off to Lars up on the hill, and bid him rouse up the women; he
knows what to do."

Upon this the window shuts down again, and the man in the sea-boots
hurries on, knocking against other men also running in the dark.

The merchant begins to put on his working clothes, which are always
at hand. His wife calls to him to put on two of his thickest woollen
coats, which he does; for he well knows what it is like in the
warehouse, with the wind at north-west with snow-storms.

The wind increases in gusts, and the snow is whirled about.

Boats and smacks arrive in such numbers before the north-west wind,
that the harbour is full of noise and shouting, the plashing of the
waves, the sound of furling sail, and the clanking of chain cables as
they rattle through the hawseholes.

In the upper stories of the warehouses lights appear. Oil lamps are
placed in all directions, and people begin to arrive--men, old women,
and girls.

The magazine of salt is opened, the cooper rummages among the
barrels, and the men in the boats grow impatient; they cry out that
they are going to begin, and the first herrings are shot upon the
floor. The whole town to its farthest corner is now on the alert;
lights shine in the small windows, and innumerable coffee-pots are
set by the fires. Bustle and hilarity prevail; the herring has
arrived, the herring that all have been expecting, a