terms when my carriers are tied to your dock with a
capacity load which I must sell or throw overboard within forty-eight
hours," MacRae smiled. "No, I don't intend to go up against any
take-it-or-leave proposition like that. I don't have to."

"Well, we might allow you five per cent. That's about the usual thing on
salmon. And we would rather have salmon now than a promise of them next
season."

"Oh, rats!" MacRae snorted. "I'm in the business to make money--not
simply to create dividends for your Eastern stockholders while I eke out
a living and take all the risks. Come again."

The cold storage man smiled.

"Come and see me in the spring. Meantime, when you have a cargo of
salmon, you might run them in to us. We'll pay market prices. It's up to
you to protect yourself in the buying."

MacRae went on about his business. He had not expected much
encouragement locally, so he did not suffer disappointment. He knew
quite well what he could expect in Vancouver if Crow Harbor canceled his
contract. He would bring in boatloads of salmon, and the dealers would
squeeze him, all but the Terminal Fish Company. And if the market could
be controlled, if the men behind could dictate the Crow Harbor policy,
they might also bring the Terminal into line. Even if they did not the
Terminal could only handle a minor portion of the salmon he could get
while the big run swirled around Squitty Island.

But MacRae was not downcast. He was only sober and thoughtful, which had
become characteristic of him in the last four months. He was forgetting
how to laugh, to be buoyant, to see the world through the rose-colored
glasses of sanguine youth. He was becoming a living exampler of his
nickname. Even Stubby Abbott marked this when Jack came back from
Bellingham.

"Come on out to the house," Stubby urged. "Your men can handle the job a
day or two longer. Forget the grind for once. It's getting you."

"No, I don't think it is," MacRae denied. "But a man can't play and
produce at the same time. I have to keep going."

He did go out to Abbott's one evening, however, and suffered a good deal
of teasing from Nelly over his manhandling of Sam Kaye. A lot of other
young people happened to foregather there. They sang and flirted and
presently moved the rugs off the living-room floor and danced to a
phonograph. MacRae found himself a little out of it, by inclination. He
was tired, without knowing quite what was the matter with him. A man,
even