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

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

"With what?" shouted I.

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

"Do you pretend to say, landlord, that this harpooner is actually engaged this blessed Saturday night, or rather Sunday morning, in peddling his head around this town?" Nay good sir, I must thank ye for joining me in my recountings of The White Whale and other things you probably didn't wanna...

"Can't sell his head? -- What sort of a bamboozingly story is this you are telling me?" getting into a towering rage.

"No," he answered, "generally he's an early bird -- airley to bed and airley to rise -- yes, he's the bird that 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 he can't sell his head."

The landlord chuckled again with his lean chuckle, and seemed to be mightily tickled at something beyond my comprehension.

It was now hard upon twelve o'clock.

"Landlord!" said I, "what sort of a chap is he -- does he always keep such late hours?"

But though the other boarders kept coming in by ones, twos, and threes, and going to bed, yet no sign of my harpooner.

I'll have a good look at him then, and perhaps we may become jolly good bedfellows after all -- there's no telling.

Thinks I, I'll wait awhile; he must be dropping in before long.

Still, looking round me again, and seeing no possible chance of spending a sufferable night unless in some other person's bed, I began to think that, after all, I might be cherishing unwarrantable prejudices against this unknown harpooner.

For who could tell but what the next morning, so soon as I popped out of the room, the harpooner might be standing in the entry, all ready to knock me down!

It seemed no bad idea; but upon second thoughts I dismissed it.

The devil fetch that harpooner, thought I, but stop! couldn't I steal a march on him -- bolt his door inside, and jump into his bed, not to be wakened by the most violent knockings?

But I soon found that there came such a draught of cold air over me from under the sill of the window, that this plan would never do at all, especially as another current from the rickety door met the one from the window, and both together formed a series of small whirlwinds in the immediate...

I then placed the first bench lengthwise along the only clear space against the wall, leaving a little interval between, for my back to settle down in.

But it was a foot too narrow, and the other bench in the room was about four inches higher than the planed one -- so there was no yoking them.