glanced at the chart which hung by his side. Forty-two completely
equipped fishing-boats in the water and every one fully manned. He
smiled as he thought of Dickie Lang's astonishment at the manner in
which the ex-navy men had taken hold of the work.

His smile broadened too as he noted the receipts from the fresh fish and
the canned product. Fishing had sure been good. And there had been
little or no interference from Mascola. Since the day when Dickie had
accepted his proposition all had gone smoothly. Gregory attributed his
success to the carrying out of an idea. It had worked. It had to work.
And it was _his_ idea.

On the floor of the cannery, Dickie Lang was also analyzing the
phenomenal success of the Legonia Fish Cannery while she waited for the
owner to accompany her on their daily cruise to the fishing grounds.

"I'll tell you, Jack, it gets my goat how things began to pick up the
very minute I threw up my contract. He's had nothing but luck ever
since."

"I wouldn't say that, Dick," McCoy objected. "The boss's idea was worth
something. Of course I----"

"Oh, rats! I'm sick of hearing everybody talking about an idea. All
these fellows in here think that Kenneth Gregory can't make a mistake.
They think that nobody else could have done what he did."

"That's what you want fellows to think who are working for you, isn't
it?" ventured McCoy.

Dickie gasped. Had McCoy too fallen a victim to hero-worship? McCoy, who
had been her loyal friend, and servant? She determined to find out to
what extent he had transferred his allegiance.

"Do you think Mr. Gregory did any more than I could have done?" she
flashed.

McCoy endeavored to temporize. "Well, in a way he didn't," he said, "and
then again he did. You see----"

But Dickie refused to see. Whirling angrily, she walked rapidly toward
the office. Anything to get away from hearing Gregory's praises chanted
from every lip. Better be with the idol himself than his devout
followers. She flung open the door and entered the office. Gregory faced
her with a smile. A self-satisfied smile, the girl thought. In his hand
was a paper.

"Look at that," he exclaimed. "My idea has worked out a lot better than
I anticipated."

Dickie glanced coldly at the sheet but made no effort to take it from
his hand. Looking him full in the eye, she observed:

"I'm about caught up with that idea of yours. I don't see that there is
anything in it to cause any one to get the swell