A few minutes later, Henry Burns and Jack Harvey approached a somewhat important-appearing person on the hotel veranda, who had been pointed out to them as the proprietor.
“Fish? No, I don’t buy fish,” he answered, shortly, in reply to Henry Burns’s question. “See the steward. He attends to that.”
Harvey reddened, but Henry Burns smiled and said:
“That’s all right, Jack. We’re only fishermen, you know. Come on, we’ll see the steward. We’ll make him pay more for the fish, just because the proprietor was haughty.”
Henry Burns was fortunate enough to catch the steward in the hotel office, where he stated his errand, coolly, before some of the guests.
“Good!” exclaimed one of them. “You’d better get ’em, Mr. Blake. You haven’t given us any fresh mackerel this season.”
“He’ll have to buy some, now, whether he wants to or not,” said Henry Burns to Harvey, as they followed the steward into his private office.
“Now see here,” said the steward, “I’ve got some six hundred guests in this house, and I need about three hundred fish. I want a fairly easy price for that many.”
“Twenty cents apiece, right through,” answered Henry Burns, promptly.
“Ho! That’s too much,” said the steward. “Can’t do it. Try again.”