acRae could inflict
loss upon him. He knew of no other way to hurt effectively such a man as
Gower. Money was life blood to him, and it was not of great value to
MacRae as yet. With deliberate calculation he decided to lose the
greater part of what he had made, if for every dollar he lost himself he
could inflict equal or greater loss on Gower.

The trailers who combed the Squitty waters were taking now close to five
thousand salmon a day. Approximately half of these went to Folly Bay.
MacRae took the rest. In this battle of giants the fishermen had lost
sight of the outcome. They ceased to care who got fish. They only
watched eagerly for him who paid the biggest price. They were making
thirty, forty, fifty dollars a day. They no longer held salmon--only a
few of the old-timers--for MacRae's carriers. It was nothing to them who
made a profit or suffered a loss. Only a few of the older men wondered
privately how long MacRae could stand it and what would happen when he
gave up.

MacRae met every raise Folly Bay made. He saw bluebacks go to a dollar
ten, then to a dollar fifteen. He ran cargo after cargo to Crow Harbor
and dropped from three to seven hundred dollars on each load, until even
Stubby lost patience with him.

"What's the sense in bucking him till you go broke? I'm in too deep to
stand any loss myself. Quit. Tie up your boats, Jack. Let him have the
salmon. Let those blockheads of fishermen see what he'll do to 'em once
you stop."

But MacRae held on till the first hot days of August were at hand and
his money was dwindling to the vanishing point. Then he ran the _Blanco_
and the _Bluebird_ into Squitty Cove and tied them to permanent
moorings in shoal water near the head. For a day or two the salmon had
shifted mysteriously to the top end, around Folly Bay and the Siwash
Islands and Jenkins Pass. The bulk of the fleet had followed them. Only
a few stuck to the Cove and Poor Man's Rock. To these and the rowboat
trollers MacRae said:

"Sell your fish to Folly Bay. I'm through."

Then he lay down in his bunk in the airy pilot house of the _Blanco_ and
slept the clock around, the first decent rest he had taken in two
months. He had not realized till then how tired he was.

When he wakened he washed, ate, changed his clothes and went for a walk
along the cliffs to stretch his legs. Vin had gone up to the Knob to see
Dolly and Uncle Peter. His helper on the _Bluebird_ was tinkering about
his engine. MacRae'