swered that he had kept a regular fisherman off the boat. Kisseck grumbled also; said he brought home three hundred pounds and got less than thirty pounds of it. "The provisioning has cost too much," said Mylrea Balladhoo. "Your tea is at four shillings a pound, besides fresh meat and fine-flour biscuits. What can you expect?" Christian offered to give half his share to the man whose berth he took, and the other half to Danny Fayle. This quieted Kisseck, but the others laughed and muttered among themselves, "Two more shares for Kisseck."
Then the men, closely encircled by their wives, moved off.
"Remember the Meailley!"
"To-night. Aw, sure, sure!"
CHAPTER VIII.
"SEEMS TO ME IT'S ALL NATHUR".
When Danny left the boat he threw his oilskins over his arm and trudged along the quay. Bill Kisseck's cottage stood alone under the Horse Hill, and to get to it Danny had to walk round by the bridge that crossed the river. On the way thither he met Ruby Cregeen, red with running. She had sighted the boats from the cottage on the hill, and was hurrying down to see them come into the harbor. The little woman was looking this morning like something between a glint of sunshine and a flash of quicksilver. On the way down she had pulled three stalks of the foxglove bell, and stuck them jauntily in her hat, their long swan-like necks drooping
