ur boats but they
are not fishermen."

Noting the direction in which the conversation was drifting, Gregory
resolved to hasten the climax.

"Do you think you could furnish me with enough fish?" he asked bluntly.

"I don't think anything about it. I know I could."

"How do you know it?"

She hesitated as she cast about in her active brain for a tangible
argument to convince the obstinate, square-jawed man before her. Of
course she could get him the fish. But how could she make him believe
it?

"My fishermen know the coast for one thing," she began. "That's a whole
lot around here. It's a treacherous shore-line and a man who doesn't
know it can lose a boat mighty easy. Then, I have ten new boats, just
the kind you have to have for albacore and tuna. As a general rule
you've got to go way out to sea to get them. Sometimes as far as Diablo.
And that means trouble. If you've ever been out to that God-forsaken
island you'll understand that it takes real men and boats. I have both."

Gregory said nothing, but waited for the girl to finish:

"I know my game," she concluded, with no spirit of bravado, but merely
as if it was only a plain statement of fact. "My men are used to holding
their own against Mascola. And I can tell you that is worth a lot."

Gregory nodded. Then he said quietly:

"Your father was never able to supply mine with enough fish to keep this
cannery going. Isn't that right?"

Dickie Lang was forced to admit the truth of the statement. Then she
qualified: "He hadn't had the big boats but a few months and they had a
run of bad luck from the start."

Gregory considered her words carefully.

"Would you be willing to enter into a contract with me to keep the
cannery supplied with fish?" he asked, watching her closely. For the
first time he saw her show signs of receding from her original position.

Dickie Lang hesitated. Her fear of legal entanglements was hereditary.
Bill Lang had settled his differences out of court and had warned his
daughter on more than one occasion of the dangers which lurked in a
contract. She shook her head. What did she know of this man, save the
fact that he bore his father's name?

"No," she answered, feeling, however, that she had weakened her previous
statement by refusing to make it legally binding.

"Why not?"

The girl realized that their positions were becoming reversed. It was
she now who was on the defensive.

"Because," she answered slowly, "I wouldn't."