El Diablo Part 13

"I just received a telegram from the sanitarium. Mr. Blair died this morning at nine o'clock."

McCoy crumpled in his chair and rested his head in his hands. "Poor old John," he muttered brokenly, "I ought to have gone up last night when they phoned me he was so much worse." He raised his head and there were tears shining in his eyes. "They didn't make them any whiter than John Blair," he said.

Gregory agreed.

"I knew him only slightly," he said. "But I surely counted on him. His loss means a lot to me. I'll go up there right away and see if there is anything I can do. Would you like to go with me?"

McCoy could only nod and the two men left the building together.

The hearts of men are tested in various crucibles. In a smoothly-moving world human paths diverge and the grooves are often widened by indifference. In times of stress, the diverse threads of commonplace existence may merge into a single strand. Then it is that casual acquaintances become friends, when man rubs elbow with man and hearts beat together in mutual sympathy and understanding.

Jack McCoy returned to Legonia saddened by the loss of an old friend; gladdened by the belief that he had found a new one. It was not what Gregory had done that made the difference to McCoy; simply the way he had done it. Any man with money could have defrayed the expenses of Blair's sickness and funeral. But it took a real man to make the gratuity appear as a favor to the donor.

When he met Gregory at the cannery the morning after their return to Legonia, McCoy was not slow in admitting that he was strong for the boss.

"If we had time, Jack," Gregory was saying, "there is nothing I'd rather do right now than give you a week off on full pay. But you know what that would mean to us at this time. Before we start in I want to make you another proposition."

As the foreman said nothing, he asked bluntly: "How would you like the job as house manager?"

"Fine," McCoy answered. "Do you think I could cut it?"

"Do you?"

"Yes," McCoy answered with no hesitation.

"All right then," Gregory answered in the same manner. "So do I. You've got a real job ahead of you. Minutes are going to count in the next few days. The next batch of my service men are due to-morrow."

McCoy jumped up. "That means a day's work for me," he exclaimed, and hurried out.

Gregory glanced at his watch. The next thing to be done was to see d.i.c.kie Lang. The matter of securing fish was of cardinal importance. The girl would be at the dock about this time. It would afford him a good chance to make his proposal while she was getting the fish ready for shipment.

Some time after Gregory had left the cannery, Barnes reported he was out of carborundum and McCoy set out at once for Legonia.

"They'd be all day sending it up," he said. "I've got to go down anyway and check over some stuff for us at the freight-house so it might as well be now."

On nearing the Lang dock he heard d.i.c.kie's voice issuing from a pile of fish-boxes at the sh.o.r.e end. McCoy checked his steps involuntarily at the girl's words, and without meaning to--listened.

"So you want to pay me a flat rate for my boats and hire me to train your men with my fishermen?"

"Yes. With a share in the profits."

It was Gregory's voice. McCoy noted the quiet tone used by the girl. He felt ashamed to eavesdrop. But he was torn with curiosity to hear d.i.c.k's answer.

"Well, you've got your nerve, I'd say. And then some. Do you think you can run my business better than I can myself?"

"If I did, I'd try to buy you out. I'm asking you to run my boats as well as your own and----"

"Be your hired girl."

d.i.c.kie supplied the words and went on angrily: "Say, the Lang boats were here a long time before you came. And they'll be here as long after you go. They have gone on their own hook ever since they went into the water. And that's the way they are going to stay. My dad never took orders from anybody. He ran his boats the way he pleased. He was independent. I'm the same way. And I want to tell you right now, I wouldn't sell out my independence to you or any other man."

McCoy crept back into the shadow of the fishing-boxes and making a wide detour went on into town. He was sorry he had listened. It wasn't a white thing to do. He liked Gregory. He was his friend. Then why, he asked himself, was he kind of glad that d.i.c.k had turned down his proposition?

CHAPTER IX

DIABLO LUCK

Busy days followed for Kenneth Gregory, and with the loyal support of Jack McCoy, much was accomplished.

The Legonia Fish Cannery wakened from its long sleep and took on new life. From the receiving floor to the warehouse everything had been carefully overhauled and put into first-cla.s.s shape. Necessary repairs and alterations had been made. Supplies and material were on hand. A nucleus of skilled labor had been carefully selected by McCoy and brought to train the service men who came to Legonia on every incoming train.

The sleepy little fishing village viewed the vanguard of the ex-soldiers with sullen indifference. Silva.n.u.s Rock had told them not to worry their heads over the "efforts of an impractical dreamer to turn the town upside down." And who knew, if Rock didn't? As the days went by, however, and the invasion became more noticeable, the alien element of the fishing colony began to experience a feeling of sharp resentment against the new owner of the Legonia cannery and his wild scheme. But again the foremost citizen had come to the fore and quieted their fears, turning them into open contempt and ridicule by his words:

"What can he do with a bunch of crippled rag-a-m.u.f.fins? Look at them for yourselves. There's hardly a whole man among them. I give him a month to go to the wall. It's the old saying of a 'fool and his money.'"

The opening of the new cannery presented every appearance of proving the truth of Rock's prophecy and caused the aliens to laugh openly.

"How can they run without fish?" sneered Mascola as he checked the catch of the incoming boats. "They haven't had enough in a week to pay them to keep up steam."

Ten days after the opening Gregory was asking Jack McCoy the same question.

"I tell you, Mac, something has to be done. The Lang boats are falling down on the job. You'll admit we haven't had a paying run since we started and expenses are climbing."

McCoy nodded. "I know it," he agreed. "But d.i.c.k has had hard luck. None of the boats have brought in much lately. The fish have taken out to sea. Then Mascola's men have been causing a lot of trouble."

"That's just it," Gregory interrupted. "The girl's tackled too big a job. I was afraid of it all the time. She's all right, Jack. I'm not saying a word against her. But she was foolish to get on her 'high-horse' and turn down my proposition. It's a man's job to get all the fish we're going to need. Not a woman's. Of course I know she's doing her best," he went on. "But we can't go on this way. If she can't make good on her contract we'll have to take it out of her hands. I'm only going to give her a few more days."

"Then what?" McCoy questioned.

"Then we'll run things ourselves. I've been figuring on it for three or four days. That's why I'm having all our boats put in shape."

"How will you man them?" asked McCoy quickly.

"I've arranged for that too. The last time I was in the city I lined up a bunch of ex-navy men. They are fair sailors and have had some experience in handling launches and small boats. I'm going to bring them down here the same as I figured at first. If the girl wants to help me with her men, all right. If not, we'll go it alone. It's a ground-hog case. We've got to get the fish."

"I wish d.i.c.k wasn't so darned independent," observed McCoy. "If it was anybody else, they'd jump at your offer."

"That's the trouble," Gregory admitted. "She's a woman and she's mighty hard to talk out of an idea she sets her mind on. If I was dealing with a man I'd have come to a show-down long before this. As it is, I'm going to see her this afternoon and try to get down to bra.s.s tacks."

A screech of the steam whistle interrupted further speech and the two men jumped to their feet and hurried out on the floor of the cannery at the signal to resume work.

"Only have enough to run about an hour," McCoy answered in response to Gregory's question concerning the supply of fish on hand. And as he noticed the frown on his employer's face, he supplemented: "We've had enough the last few days to break the crew in anyway."

"That's something, but it isn't good enough," Gregory answered. "You're fixed right now to handle three times what we're getting. And I'm paying for it. I'm not worrying about things in here, Mac. Everything is going fine."