"It's fine." The low sun made the water all purple and pinkish, with golden lights on the barrels of the long swells, and blue and green mackerel shades in the hollows.

Each schooner in sight seemed to be pulling her dories towards her by invisible strings, and the little black figures in the tiny boats pulled like clockwork toys.
"They've struck on good," said Dan, between his half-shut eyes.

"Manuel hain't room fer another fish.

Low ez a lily-pad in still water, ain't he ?" "Which is Manuel?
I don't see how you can tell 'em 'way off, as you do." "Last boat to the south'ard.

He f'und you last night," said Dan, pointing.