er came back in a deep, orotund, sing-song voice. It was the
natural intoning of the man of the sea. Two boats shot from under a
rocky headland a few hundred yards before me to the left. One of the
boats made fast to some black corks that formed a huge rectangle in the
water, and two men began pulling in a net. The one in the other boat,
who answered to the name of Scud, stopped rowing for a moment, exchanged
a word or two, and laughed aloud, then cast a critical look at the sun's
altitude, and pulled lazily away. When he was at some distance, he
rested on his oars, and hilloaed with that penetrating sea cry:

"I hope you'll get two barr'l. I guess thar's 'nough to go all round."

That undulatory cadence is entirely lacking in landsmen's tones. Still
this was an extraordinarily joyous voice, as if the life of a fisherman
were a dream without a care or a struggle. But Scud and his queer, green
boat disappeared behind the jagged outline of the rocks, and I turned at
the sound of the first bell to dress for breakfast.

"Well, how do you like your room? I hope that the fishermen didn't wake
you up too early."

My cousin offered me some smoking flakes of fish, new to my limited
experience. This, he said, was inland hake, and was caught that morning
in Scud's trap. Now, although I was hitherto ignorant of this delicious
fish with its paradoxical cognomen, I felt that Scud and I were already
friends; and gravely informed my host that Scud had caught twenty-six
little ones that morning. This piece of information was immediately
greeted with impertinent hilarity.

"So Scud woke you up?" said my cousin. "He's always doing that. There
was one nervous boarder here. She threatened to have him arrested for
breaking the peace. But you might as well arrest a fog-whistle."

"Does he always get up as early in the morning?" I asked,
apprehensively. "He must be a very energetic person. Do tell me about
it. What are 'little 'uns'?"

I must confess to a degree of perplexity when the the whole family burst
into further roars of laughter at my simple question.

"Scud energetic? Why, he is the easiest, the slowest, the sleepiest, the
most lovable, good-natured fellow on the whole coast. He makes the
surest and perhaps the best living of any of the fishermen around here.
If he didn't get up early he wouldn't do even that. As it is, Salt does
most of the work. Salt is his oldest boy," explained my cousin.

"I am sure Scud needs all he ca