befriended him, and he rose to the occasion.

The girl looked up as he came suddenly upon her, but his eyes were already
away and fixed upon the horizon before she turned. Observing that he was
not regarding her, she put up her hands again and continued to scan the
remote sea-line where a thin trail of dark smoke told of a steamer, itself
apparently invisible. Barron took his glasses from their case, and seeing
that the girl made no movement of departure, acted deliberately, and
presently began to watch a fleet of brown sails and black hulls putting
forth from the little harbor below. Then, without looking at her or taking
his eyes from the glasses, he spoke.

"Would you kindly tell me what those small vessels are below there just
setting out to sea?" he asked.

The girl started, looked round, and, realizing that he had addressed her,
made answer:

"They'm Mouzle [Footnote: _Mouzle_--Mousehole.] luggers, sir."

"Luggers, are they? Thank you. And where are they sailing to? Do you know?"

"Away down-long, south'ard o' the Scillies mostly, arter mackerl. Theer's a
power o' mackerl bein' catched just now--thousands an' thousands--but some
o' they booats be laskin'--that's just fishin' off shore."

"Ah, a busy time for the fishermen."

"Iss, 'tis."