"We want something to call her by."
"She has no name."
"Then we will call her the No-Name, till you fix upon something," laughed Stumpy.
"All right."
The "No-Name" passed half a dozen of the boats bound to the reef; but when she reached her destination, there were not less than twenty craft, of all sorts and sizes, on the fishing-ground, huddled into a heap, near the spot where the luckless Waldo had gone down. The secret was out. A fisherman going off to the deep water, on the morning before, had seen Leopold's boat near the reef; and when it was said that the young man had obtained a large catch of mackerel, he knew where they came from. But the vicinity of the reefs was the usual place for catching these fish when they were to be had at all; and as soon as there were mackerel in the market, the fishermen and others knew where to go for them. In a few moments Leopold had joined the crowd, and the fish bit as smartly as before. The No-Name was more fortunate than most of her companions, and got about four hundred mackerel. She might have got twice as many if she had remained longer on the ground; but Leopold reasoned that fish without a market were not very valuable. His was the first boat to reach Rockhaven; and he sold his fare at seven cents apiece. By half past eight the No-Name was washed down, and ready for a party, if any offered. Stumpy went home with seven dollars in his pocket, and Leopold diminished his debt by twenty-one dollars.
There was no "job" for him at the hotel that day; but in the afternoon Leopold took his father and mother and Herr Schlager out to sail in the new boat; and he was quite as happy on this occasion as though he had made five dollars by the trip. The next morning there were no mackerel off the ledges, or if there were, they would not bite; and the No-Name made a profitless trip. When she returned, Leopold found two gentlemen at the hotel who wished to sail over to Rockland, as there was no steamer that day. While the skipper was making his trade with them, Harvey Barth entered the office. The sick man had finished his narrative of the loss of the Waldo the day before, and sent it off by the mail in the steamer. He looked sadder and more gloomy than usual.
"I should like to go over with you," said Harvey, after Leopold had named the price for the trip. "I will pay my share of it."
The gentlemen looked at Harvey and did not seem to like the appearance of him; and he certainly did not promise to be a very agreeable companion for an excursion. They took no notice of him, and the steward was mortified by their coldness.
"Are you going to leave us, Mr. Barth?" asked the landlord, who was behind the counter.
"Yes; I thought I would be on my way to New York as soon as I could, for I want to find that drummer," drawled Harvey, with his usual hacking cough. "I feel better this morning, and I think I can stand it to move towards home. Those men don't seem to want me to go with them, but I suppose I can wait till to-morrow. If you will give me my bill, I will pay it."