morosely from under thick reddish eyebrows. He scarcely ever spoke to
anybody; and some of the superstitious fishermen did not like to meet
him in the morning, because they thought he always brought them bad
luck. Lance was a handsome man, with small hands and feet. He was not
like the shaggy giants of the village--and, indeed, it had been said
that some people at the Hall knew more about his parentage than might at
first sight be supposed. The two men never talked much, and never
exchanged any kind of greeting when they met and parted. Both of them
were such expert boatmen that excepting on very dark nights they
scarcely needed to communicate except by signs.

On summer afternoons when the herrings were coming southward Roughit
would knock at Lance's door and pass on without a word. Presently Lance
would come out, with his oilskins over one arm and his water-bottle
swung by his side. The coble was lifted on to the launching-wheels and
run down to the water; then the two men took their places, and the boat
stole away northward over the bay. They never carried their fish to any
big port, because their boat was so small that it was not worth their
while. They always ran back to their own village and sold their catch to
the farmers and labourers in their own neighbourhood. When the boat was
beached, Roughit and Lance had their nets driven up to the great green
and then spread in the sun for an hour or two. They sat smoking and
listening to the larks that sung against one another over the common.
About one o'clock they strode home together and went to bed until it was
time to go north once more.

The herring season is the pleasantest for fishermen. It is their
harvest; and they have little real hardship and a good deal of
excitement. On calm nights, after the nets are shot, there are hours of
keen expectancy, until the oily flicker on the surface of the water