es, more money than I made last year," MacRae replied--"unless Folly
Bay boosts prices to the sky in an effort to drive me out of business."

"I don't think there's much danger of that," Stubby said. "I doubt if
Folly Bay opens this season. It's reported that Gower is broke."

"Eh?" MacRae looked his doubt.

"That's what they say," Stubby went on. "It's common talk. He sold his
place in town a short while ago. He has the cannery on the market. And
there are no takers. Folly Bay used to be a little gold mine. But Gower
rode the fishermen too hard. And you balled things up last season. He
lost his grip. I suppose he was involved other ways, too. Lots of these
old-timers are, you know. Anyway, he seems to be trying to get out from
under. But nobody wants to take over a plant that has a black eye among
the men who catch the fish, in a territory where you appear to have a
pretty strong hold."

"At the same time, if I can pay so much for salmon, haul them up the
coast and make a profit on that, and if you can pay this advanced price
and pack them at a still bigger profit, why in blazes can't a plant
right there on the grounds pay top price and still make money?" MacRae
asked impatiently.

"Could," Stubby declared. "Certainly. But most men in the salmon canning
business aren't like you and me, Jack. They are used to big returns on a
three months' season. They simply can't stand the idea of paying out big
gobs of money to a sulky, un-shaven bohunk whose whole equipment isn't
worth a thousand dollars. They think any man in sea boots ought to be
damn well satisfied if he makes a living. They say high wages, or
returns, spoil fishermen. On top of these new regulations nobody hankers
to buy a plant where they might have to indulge in a price war with a
couple of crazy young fools like you and me--that's what they call us,
you know. That is why no experienced cannery man will touch Folly Bay
the way things stand now. It's a fairly good plant, too. I don't know
how Gower has managed to get in a hole. I don't believe one poor season
could do that to him. But he sure wants to get rid of Folly Bay. It is a
forty-thousand-dollar plant, including the gas boats. He has been
nibbling at an offer of twenty-five thousand. I know, because I made it
myself."

"What'll you do with it if you get it?" MacRae asked curiously. "It's
no good unless you get the fish. You'd have to put me out of business."

"Well, I wasn't exactly figuring on th