on peaceable terms with one another; they were as different as land
and sea. But to-day the indifferent attitude of the peasants made
the sea-folk eye them with suppressed rage. The fat pilot had
already had several altercations with them for being in his way;
and when one of them laid himself open to criticism, he was down
upon him in an instant. It was an elderly farmer, who woke from his
nap with a start, as his head fell forward, and impatiently took out
his watch and looked at it.

"It's getting rather late," he said. "The captain can't find his
stall to-day."

"More likely he's dropped into an inn on the way!" said the pilot,
his eyes gleaming with malice.

"Very likely," answered the farmer, without for the moment realizing
the nature of the paths of the sea. His auditors laughed exultingly,
and passed the mistake on to their neighbors, and people crowded
round the unfortunate man, while some one cried: "How many inns
are there between this and Sweden?"

"Yes, it's too easy to get hold of liquids out there, that's the
worst of it," the pilot went on. "But for that any booby could
manage a ship. He's only got to keep well to the right of Mads
Hansen's farm, and he's got a straight road before him. And the
deuce of a fine road! Telegraph-wires and ditches and a row of
poplars on each side--just improved by the local board. You've just
got to wipe the porridge off your mustache, kiss the old woman, and
climb up on to the bridge, and there you are! Has the engine been
oiled, Hans? Right away, then, off we go; hand me my best whip!" He