Disko Troop was smoking by the roof of the cabin--one eye on the craft around, and the other on the little fly at the main-mast-head.
"When Dad kerflummoxes that way," said Dan in a whisper, "he's doin' some high-line thinkin' fer all hands.

I'll lay my wage an' share we'll make berth soon.

Dad he knows the cod, an' the Fleet they know Dad knows.

'See 'em comm' up one by one, lookin' fer nothin' in particular, o' course, but scrowgin' on us all the time?
There's the _Prince Leboo_; she's a Chat-ham boat.

She's crep' up sence last night.