encement of the
excitement in and around the fish market, terminated the conversation on
Stumpy's worldly affairs. As the dingy craft approached the pier, a
crowd gathered at the head of the landing-steps, for it had been noised
about the town that Leopold had brought in a fare of mackerel the day
before; and people were anxious to know whether he had repeated his good
luck.

A great many boats had gone out that morning after mackerel, but none of
them had yet returned. Foremost in the crowd on the wharf was Bangs, the
senior member of the firm that kept the fish market. He was excited and
anxious, though he struggled to be calm and indifferent when Leopold
fastened the painter of his boat to the steps.

"What luck to-day, Le?" shouted Bangs, who could not see the fish, for
the careful Leopold had covered them in order to keep them from injury
from the sun, and so that the extent of his good fortune might not at
once be seen by the idlers on the wharf.

"Pretty fair," replied Leopold, striving to be as calm and indifferent
as the dealer in fish on the pier.

"What have you got?" inquired Bangs.

"Mackerel," answered Leopold, as he seated himself in the stern-sheets
of the boat, with affected carelessness.

"Tinkers?"

"No; the same sort that I sold you yesterday."

"What do you ask for them?" inquired Bangs, looking up at the sky as
though nothing on the earth below concerned him.

"Ten cents," replied Leopold, looking up at the sky in turn, as though
nothing sublunary concerned him, either.

"All right," said the dealer, shaking his head, with a kind of smile,
which seemed to indicate that he thought the young fisherman was beside
himself to ask such a price, after apparently glutting the market the
day before. "That will do for once, Le; but they won't bring ten cents
at retail, after all I sold yesterday. I should have to salt them down."

"Very well," added Leopold; "that's my price; and I don't know of any
law that compels you to give it, if you don't want to, Mr. Bangs."

The dealer began to edge his way through the crowd towards the fish
market, and the idlers hastened to the conclusion that there would be no
trade.

"What do you ask apiece for two or three of them?" asked some one on the
wharf.

"Twenty cents," answered Leopold. "But I don't care to sell them at
retail."

"I will take three, if you will let me have them," added the inquirer.

This conversation startled the head of the fish f