“That’s so,” said Björn, and nodded to the skipper.
“How much do you want for her?” asked the latter.
“Two hundred dollars as she swims now.”
“One hundred and eighty,” was bidden.
Björn did not answer, but prepared to let go the mooring.
“Who made her sails?” was asked.
“The man with the rudder,” answered Björn, and cut the after-ropes loose.
“All right. Tie up again and let me come aboard.”
Then came a turning upside down and a ransacking of everything inside “The Pail.” The bulkheads, the flooring, the combing, the seats, nails, cleats, and painting, masts and oars were examined, and about an hour later Björn and Anders stood outside the tavern, where the bargain had been sealed with a drink. The summer sun shone down on their burning faces and beaming eyes, but when Björn looked toward the harbor and saw “The Pail” being taken away from its place his expression changed, and, turning to Anders, he asked: “What do you think they will say when we come home without 'The Pail’?”
Anders put on a thoughtful mien. “I don’t know. But, anyway, it was your boat, and the skipper promised to be good to her, and keep her scraped and tarred and painted when she needs it.”