times Jim tried to open a
conversation, but Percy responded only in monosyllables. He was tired
and sleepy, and felt generally out-of-sorts. So Jim gave it up and let
him alone.

They reached Sprowl's Cove at noon. Budge and Throppy had returned some
time before from pulling the lobster-traps; Jim inspected their catch.

"About forty pounds," was his estimate. "Rather slim; but then the traps
were down only about twelve hours. We'll do better after we get fairly
started. I'm not going trawling to-morrow; so the whole crowd can make a
lobstering trip in the _Barracouta_. Now let's have dinner. This
afternoon we'll all turn to and dress fish."

Percy filed a mental negative to the last statement. He had decided
that, so far at least as Tarpaulin Island was concerned, his fishing
days were over. Nevertheless, he ate a good dinner.

At one o'clock the four academy boys rowed out to the _Barracouta_. All
but Percy had on their oilskin aprons, or "petticoats."

"Where's your regimentals, Whittington?" asked Lane.

"I'm only going to look on this afternoon," replied Percy.

The other three exchanged surprised glances, but made no comments. On
board the sloop Jim was soon busily engaged in demonstrating the process
of dressing fish. Budge and Throppy learned quickly. Percy's refusal to
take part in the work did not prevent him from watching it with interest
from the cabin roof.

The fish were split and cleaned. Their heads were cut off and thrown
into a barrel, to serve later as lobster bait, and the livers tossed
into pails. Their "sounds," the membrane running along the backbone,
were removed and placed in a box. After the bodies had been rinsed in a
tub of water, and the backbones cut out, they were flung into the dory,
taken ashore and plunged into another tub of water, and then salted down
in hogsheads. Three pairs of hands made speedy work.

"What do you do with those?"

Percy pointed to the pails containing the livers.

"Leave 'em in a barrel in the sun to be tried out," responded Jim. "The
oil is worth more than sixty cents a gallon."

"And those?"

He indicated the box of "sounds."

"Cut 'em open with a pair of shears, press out the blood, and spread 'em
on wire netting to dry for three days; then sew 'em up in sacks, to be
shipped to some glue-factory. Four pounds of 'em'll bring a dollar.
These things and some others are the by-products of the fishing
business. They're worth too much to throw away."