"Little mites of herring, too! Look how big them are!" Cap'n 'Siah pointed to the barrels nearest them on the wharf.
"He told me to pick 'em out small!" said young Josiah, in an aggrieved tone, for his faith in the leader had begun to waver.
The color leaped suddenly into Manuel's sharp, thin little face.
"It is true they are small; one must provide a little for the evil day, even when one shall not think the market will be glut! I go, but I will be back again by-and-by!"
He made his way swiftly through the crowd of clamoring fish-dealers, with which the wharf was already alive, and in the long avenue that led to the street he disappeared from their sight.
"That's the last we shall ever see of that tarnal little Portergee!" said Cap'n 'Siah.
But after the Cap'n had threatened to throw the herring overboard, to sell them for enough to buy a breakfast, and never to pay for the boat, Caddy had given way to tears in company with little Israel, and young Josiah had permitted himself to express a preference for Yankees, Manuel came walking across the plank to the Delight, his small brown face aglow.
A man came with him, well dressed and with a business-like air, but dark-skinned and with ear-rings. Manuel introduced him proudly as his friend and countryman, José Macés, foreman of the great canning factory in —— Street. He would buy the little herring; it was of them that sardines were made in his factory.
"It is why I have choose the small ones," Manuel explained, serenely.
But it was not until Cap'n 'Siah saw the barrels loaded upon a great dray, with the name of José Macés's firm upon it, that he could believe the good fortune.