THE WHITE WHALE 
15 
think that, after all, I might he cherishing unwarrantable prejudices 
against this unknown harpooneer. Thinks I, “I’ll wait awhile; he 
must he dropping in before long. I’ll have a good look at him then, and 
perhaps we may become jolly good bedfellows after all — there’s no 
telling.” 
But though the other hoarders kept coming in by ones, twos, and 
threes, and going to bed, yet no sign of my harpooneer. 
“Landlord !” said I, “what sort of a chap is he — does he always keep 
such late hours ?” It was now hard upon twelve o’clock. 
The landlord chuckled again with his lean chuckle, and seemed to be 
mightily tickled at something beyond my comprehension. “Ho,” he 
answered, “generally he’s an early bird — airley to bed and airley to 
rise —yes, he’s the bird what catches the worm. — But tonight he went 
out a-peddling, you see, and I don’t see what on airth keeps him so late, 
unless, may be 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 he sure ; ain’t there too many heads in the world V 9 
“I tell you what it is, landlord,” said I quite calmly, “you’d better 
stop spinning that yarn to me — I’m not green.” 
“Maybe not,” taking out a stick and whittling a toothpick, “but I 
rayther guess you’ll he done brown if that ere harpooneer hears you 
a-slanderin’ his head.” 
“I’ll break it for him,” said I, now hying into a passion again at 
this unaccountable farrago of the landlord’s. 
“It’s broke a’ready,” said he. 
“Broke,” said I — “broke, do you mean?” 
“Sartain, and that’s the very reason he can’t sell it, I guess.” 
“Landlord,” said I, going up to him as cool as Mount Hecla in a 
snowstorm, — “landlord, stop whittling. You and I must understand 
