openly.
But when the cannery fleet got fish while the Italian's boats came in
but scantily-laden, Mascola's laugh changed to a scowl and Rock's flabby
forehead was creased with worried lines.

With the aid of the radio the "patchy" schools along the coast had been
fished to good advantage while Mascola's fleet were forced to cruise as
far as Diablo and San Anselmo in order to obtain fish enough to supply
the rival cannery.

From McCoy's occasional visits Gregory had learned that the plant was
running to its full capacity. Upon the subject, however, of sales and
orders, the house-manager was extremely reticent.

So it was that Gregory passed the long days of his confinement,
rejoicing with Dickie Lang over the growing success of the outside end
and worrying over McCoy's evasion when he was questioned concerning the
disposition of the finished product. And all the while longing for the
time to come when he would be permitted to get back into the harness.

"There's no use letting you go with instructions to take it easy,"
Doctor Kent had said. "I know your kind. When I turn you out I want you
to be going strong."

In that opinion, Aunt Mary concurred. But the time came at last when
Gregory was permitted to leave the Lang cottage and return to the
cannery. Fearing a reversal of the verdict rendered in his favor, he set
out at once. At some distance from the cannery he stopped and inhaled
the fish-laden atmosphere with a singing heart. Once, he remembered, the
odor had sickened him. Now it came like a breath from Heaven. It stirred
his soul, quickened his pulse. He sucked in the tinctured air greedily.
It was life itself. A life that was full and free, teeming with
opportunity, filled with work and fight.

"Long on fish, but short on sales."

Gregory expressed the state of his business with blunt accuracy as he
stood with McCoy in the crowded warehouse.

McCoy admitted the truth of the owner's statement.

"We didn't want to worry you while you were sick," he explained, "but
you can see just where we stand. Something has sure gone wrong with the
selling end. Dick's getting the fish. I'm canning them. But we can't
sell them."

"What's the matter with the Western people?" Gregory asked quickly. "I
thought they were strong for us."

McCoy shrugged. "So did I," he answered. "But a few days after you got
hurt they quit us cold with no explanation. When we fell down on that
first big order of albacore, Winfield & Camb