the mention of Blair. He had supposed Blair to be
gone. Had not Rossi reported the departure of the former manager more
than a month ago? Blair would be a stumbling-block to his scheme. Blair
knew too much. Mascola realized that he had been too confident. He felt,
moreover, that he had made a fool of himself. Had not the young man
smiled? His anger mounted at the recollection. He rose quickly, fighting
it down.

"All right, Mr. Gregory," he said smoothly. "I make my proposition. I
come to you this time. You do not accept. It is all right. Next time you
come to me."

Bowing slightly and smiling to hide his anger, he went out.

Gregory turned again to his work, but found it hard to keep his mind
from the Italian's veiled threat. It angered him. Mascola had appeared
so sure of his ground. His irritation grew as his eye fell again on the
Lang contract. If he only had some one with whom he could talk. Some one
who knew something about fishing or running a cannery. Some one who
would understand what he was up against. His father evidently had few if
any confidants. If he had only left some written word.

From the cannery came the sound of excited voices, a jargon of
unintelligible words. Gregory sprang to his feet and hurried out. He met
Mascola coming to meet him. Behind him trooped the alien laborers.

The Italian stopped abruptly and threw out his arm with a dramatic
gesture. Pointing in the direction of the solitary soldier who stood
staring with open mouth, he said: "My men, they do not work with scabs,
Mr. Gregory. You let that man go, or they quit."

"Let them quit."

Gregory spoke quickly and tried to smile. Losing his temper would not
help matters. That wasn't business.

Mascola spoke rapidly to the men in their own tongue, waving his arms
and rolling his eyes. Gregory noticed that every one seemed to be
getting excited. With scowling faces, the alien laborers grouped
themselves about their leader and glared at the offending soldier and
his boss.

Gregory checked a quick impulse forcibly to show Mascola the door. It
was the right of every man to refuse to work if the job was not to his
liking. There was, however, nothing to get excited over. He turned to
Mascola.

"Tell your men to come into the office and get their money," he said.

His quiet manner disappointed the Italian boss. He had hoped for a
scene. An argument at least. His men expected more of him than this.
Gregory had calmly turned his back