er should walk on.

But the other man sat down on MacRae's log.

"Not much like over the pond, this," he remarked.

"Not much," MacRae agreed indifferently.

Young Gower took a cigarette case out of his pocket, extended it to
MacRae, who declined with a brief shake of his head. Norman lighted a
cigarette. He was short and stoutly built, a compact, muscular man
somewhat older than MacRae. He had very fair hair and blue eyes, and the
rose-leaf skin of his mother had in him taken on a masculine floridity.
But he had the Gower mouth and determined chin. So had Betty, MacRae was
reminded, looking at her brother.

"You sank your harpoon pretty deep into Folly Bay this season," Norman
said abruptly. "Did you do pretty well yourself?"

"Pretty well," MacRae drawled. "Did it worry you?"

"Me? Hardly," young Gower smiled. "It did not cost _me_ anything to
operate Folly Bay at a loss while I was in charge. I had neither money
nor reputation to lose. You may have worried the governor. I dare say
you did. He never did take kindly to anything or any one that interfered
with his projects. But I haven't heard him commit himself. He doesn't
confide in me, anyway, nor esteem me very highly in any capacity. I
wonder if your father ever felt that way about you?"

"No," MacRae said impulsively. "By God, no!"

"Lucky. And you came home with a record behind you. Nothing to handicap
you. You jumped into the fray to do something for yourself and made good
right off the bat. There is such a thing as luck," Norman said soberly.
"A man can do his best--and fail. I have, so far. I was expected to come
home a credit to the family, a hero, dangling medals on my manly chest.
Instead, I've lost caste with my own crowd. Girls and fellows I used to
know sneer at me behind my back. They put their tongues in their cheek
and say I was a crafty slacker. I suppose you've heard the talk?"

"No," MacRae answered shortly; he had forgotten Nelly Abbott's
questioning almost the first time he met her. "I don't run much with
your crowd, anyway."

"Well, they can think what they damn please," young Gower grumbled.
"It's quite true that I was never any closer to the front than the Dover
cliffs. Perhaps at home here in the beginning they handed me a captain's
commission on the family pull. But I tried to deliver the goods. These
people think I dodged the trenches. They don't know my eyesight spoiled
my chances of going into action. I couldn't get to France.