and airley to rise--yea, he's the bird what catches the worm.
But to-night he went out a peddling, you see, and I don't see
what on airth keeps him so late, unless, may be, he can't
sell his head."

"Can't sell his head?--What sort of a bamboozingly story
is this you are telling me?" getting into a towering rage.
"Do you pretend to say, landlord, that this harpooneer is actually
engaged this blessed Saturday night, or rather Sunday morning,
in peddling his head around this town?"

"That's precisely it," said the landlord, "and I told him he couldn't
sell it here, the market's overstocked."

"With what?" shouted I.

"With heads to be sure; ain't there too many heads in the world?"

"I tell you what it is, landlord," said I quite calmly,
"you'd better stop spinning that yarn to me--I'm not green."

"May be not," taking out a stick and whittling a toothpick,
"but I rayther guess you'll be done brown if that ere harpooneer
hears you a slanderin' his head."

"I'll break it for him," said I, now flying into a passion again
at this unaccountable farrago of the landlord's.

"It's broke a'ready," said he.