“Easy, Dan,” cautioned Bob. “Look where you’re going if you don’t want to run the landing down. Here we are, Barry; out you go!”
And Barry went out and was halfway up the pier before anyone else had set foot on the landing.
CHAPTER IV—IS LARGELY CONCERNED WITH SALT WATER AND SALT FISH
“Let’s do the town,” suggested Dan.
Inquiry elicited the information that the town proper was a good two miles by road, although it was in plain sight across the harbor. By walking a block they could take a car—if the cars happened to be running that day; it seemed that in Gloucester one could never tell about the street cars.
“Blow the cars!” said Dan. “Let’s walk.”
So they started out, found the car tracks, and proceeded to follow them along the side of the harbor, past queer little white cottages set in diminutive gardens or nestled in tiny groves of apple trees. To their right a high granite cliff shot up against the blue sky, and was crowned with a few houses which looked as though they might blow off at the first hard wind. After three hours on the boat it felt mighty good to be able to stretch their legs again, and they made fast time. Presently they came to what at first glance seemed to be an acre or so of low white canvas tents, and Tom and Dan, walking ahead, stopped in surprise. Then——
“Blamed if they aren’t fish!” exclaimed Tom. “With little awnings over them to keep them from getting freckled!”
“What are they doing?” asked Bob.
“They dry them like this,” answered Nelson. “They’ve been cleaned and salted, you see, and when they’re dried they are packed in boxes and tubs and casks.” Bob whistled expressively.