ne more than Doug Sproul. He started joshin' Doug. You know what a
crab old Doug is. He got crusty as blazes. Old Gower just grinned at him
and rowed off."

MacRae made no comment, and their talk turned into other channels until
Vin hauled his hook and bore away. MacRae saw to dropping the
_Blanco's_ anchor. He would lie there till dusk. Then he sat in the
shade again, looking up at the Gower cottage.

Gower was finished as an exploiter. There was no question about that.
When a man as big as he went down the crash set tongues wagging. All the
current talk reached MacRae through Stubby. That price-war had been
Gower's last kick, an incomprehensible, ill-judged effort to reestablish
his hold on the Squitty grounds, so it was said.

"He never was such a terribly big toad in the cannery puddle," Stubby
recited, "and I guess he has made his last splash. They always cut a
wide swath in town, and that sort of thing can sure eat up coin. I'm
kind of sorry for Betty. Still, she'll probably marry somebody with
money. I know two or three fellows who would be tickled to death to get
her."

"Why don't _you_ go to the rescue?" MacRae had suggested, with an irony
that went wide of the mark.

Stubby looked reflectively at his crippled arm.

"Last summer I would have," he said. "But she couldn't see me with a
microscope. And I've found a girl who seems to think a winged duck is
worth while."

"You'll be able to get hold of that ranch of yours again, probably,"
Stubby had also said. "The chances are old H.A. will raise what cash he
can and try to make a fresh start. It seems there has been friction in
the family, and his wife refused to come through with any of her
available cash. Seems kind of a complicated hole he got into. He's
cleaned, anyway. Robbin-Steele got all his cannery tenders and took over
several thousand cases of salmon. I hear he still has a few debts to be
settled when the cannery is sold. Why don't you figure a way of getting
hold of that cannery, Jack?"

"I'm no cannery man," MacRae replied. "Why don't you? I thought you
made him an offer."

"I withdrew it," Stubby said. "I have my hands full without that. You've
knocked about a hundred per cent off its value anyway."

"If I can get my father's land back I'll be satisfied," MacRae had said.

He was thinking about that now. He had taken the first steps toward that
end, which a year ago had seemed misty and rather hopeless. Gower rich,
impregnable, would ho