"Hello, fellers," he said.
The fat man answered, "Evenin'."
The skinny man tightened up on his ears for an instant and swung at Mr. Skooglund with a short club.
"Good evening," he said, accenting the blow. The Swede took the count with a grunt.
The fat man and the skinny one picked up Mr. Skooglund and carried him to the open hatch. Feet first they dropped him upon the slithering mass of salmon five feet below.
"He might drown. What did you hit him so hard for?"
"No chance. He ain't hurt—he'll sleep two or three hours. I only hit him light. You can't kill these fish fighters hittin' 'em in the head, anyway. Ivory—who's that?"
The fish wheel was being boarded by another visitor.
"Talk fish. You an' me owns the boat. We ain't seen nobody." The skinny man whispered quickly to his companion. "Kick that sack in the hold."
The wheat sack with its clinking contents was cast into the open hatch.