El Diablo Part 32

"You mean advertise?" Gregory prompted.

A slight frown pa.s.sed over Hawkins' face.

"Nothing so crude as that," he answered. "I mean publicity."

The newspaperman's face glowed with the importance of his subject and he continued rapidly:

"This is an age of publicity. With proper handling you can do most anything. Even adverse publicity, so-called, has its value. Lots of shows around here for instance are crowded to the doors every night by a mere suggestion that they are not all that they should be. The quickest way to kill a man or an idea in this country is by a 'campaign of silence.'"

Seeing that Gregory did not quite get his drift, he went on:

"Your idea is O.K. It will write up well if it is handled right.

Moreover it is a little out of the ordinary, and all-American. That is a popular theme at present."

He paused and puffed the air full of smoke-wreaths. In the smoke he could see a big story. Why couldn't hard-headed business men realize the value of the thing he was trying to get at? Why, Kenneth Gregory's idea would be a winner at the present time. He, Bill Hawkins, could make it so.

"Listen," he said quietly. "I have to be getting back to the office so I can't say much now. I put over a big story for the boss yesterday. Shot myself to pieces over it. So he's giving me a week off on full pay to take it easy. I want a vacation. I'm a fan for fishing and if you'll give me an invitation to go back with you and will let me muss around on your boats, I'll see if I can't drop on to something that will look good in print. I have an idea I can have a few of the jobbers around here yelping at your heels for fish before I get back. In the morning I'll be off. Then I'll go down to Winfield & Camby's with you. I know the boss there and think maybe I can get him to talk 'turkey.'"

Gregory jumped eagerly at Hawkins' suggestion and immediately extended the desired invitation. The following morning saw the two men closeted at an early hour with Mr. Dupont, of Winfield & Camby. And under the warmth of Hawkins' introduction, the manager's manner thawed perceptibly toward the young cannery owner.

Noting the change, Gregory hastened to take advantage of it, and straightway put up his proposition. When he had concluded, Mr. Dupont took the floor.

"In our dealings with our patrons, Mr. Gregory," he began, "we are nothing, if not frank. Our firm is one of unimpeachable standing which follows as a natural result from years of square-dealing. We are, however, extremely conservative. We play, as the saying goes, no 'long-shots.' Once convinced of the dependability of our producers, we give them every chance and stick by them to the limit."

The manager removed his nose-gla.s.ses and polished them carefully before going on:

"I had the pleasure of meeting your father, Mr. Gregory. From my observation of him, he was everything that one could expect in a man.

But he was constantly hampered with labor troubles of one sort or another. Consequently, he was unable to operate his plant in the way we like to see them operate. When we work up a trade for a particular brand, we like to be able to supply the demand which we create. If we were a.s.sured that you were able to make good in this respect, we would have no hesitation in sending a buyer down at once to inspect your pack."

"But you do not?"

Gregory met the man's eyes squarely and the manager looked him over critically.

"Yes," he answered after a moment. "For some reason or other I believe I do. I think you are working along the right lines. That is," he amended with a smile, "if you do not carry your ideas of cooperation far enough to deal direct with the consumer and cut us out of it."

As Gregory shook his head, Mr. Dupont concluded:

"I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll send Mr. Dalton down at once to look over your pack. How does that suit you?"

Gregory's face clearly expressed his satisfaction and a few moments later he hurried out into the street, leaving Hawkins with the manager.

"I'll meet you here at any time," Hawkins called after him.

Promising to meet his friend at four o'clock, Gregory started again on his rounds. Pa.s.sing a butcher-shop he stopped and surveyed the array of fish which were on display in the window. He noted the prices and hastily compared them with the figures he was getting from the markets in Port Angeles for his fresh fish. There was surely money going to waste somewhere. Remembering that he had promised d.i.c.kie to visit the wholesalers, he directed his steps to the water-front.

The dealers he visited were scarcely civil and among them was none who spoke English without the accent of the foreigner. Their observations in response to his questions concerning the prices they were offering, were short and to the point. If he did not like it, he need not ship to them.

They were dumping fish every day as it was. The market was glutted. What was he going to do about it?

Gregory wondered himself. Then a plan began to form in his brain, suggested no doubt by Mr. Dupont's jest about him carrying the cooperative idea far enough to include the consumer. Why not? Fish were being retailed at almost prohibitive figures. And the markets claimed they were dumping them. Somebody was profiteering. Who was it? Certainly not himself. He was barely able to get enough from the dealers to pay express.

The idea grew as he walked along the street. He decided to take up, with d.i.c.kie Lang, the matter of establishing a cooperative service-market and selling direct to the consumer.

In mid-afternoon he found himself again among the jobbers. But the few he had not called upon the day previous, appeared even less interested in his proposition. As he came out of the Pacific's establishment, he brushed against a heavy-set man with gray hair, who was just going in.

Excusing himself for his awkwardness, he glanced at the stranger's face.

It was Silva.n.u.s Rock, of Legonia.

Gregory pa.s.sed on. Rock apparently had not recognized him. Yet surely he was not mistaken in the man's ident.i.ty. The flabby face with its sagging folds of pink skin, the snake-like eyes and the long Roman nose could not have been the inheritance of any other than the magnate of Legonia.

And yet, what business could Rock have with the jobbers? Gregory wondered as he walked up-town to get a box of candy for Aunt Mary and d.i.c.kie Lang. While he made his purchase, his mind was filled with his meeting with Rock. In some vague way he began to a.s.sociate Rock's presence in the jobbing district with the failure of the dealers to become interested in his solicitation. When he reached the office of Winfield & Camby at four o'clock, the matter still filled his mind.

"Mr. Hawkins just stepped out," Mr. Dupont informed him. Then the manager cleared his throat and beckoned Gregory to his private office.

"It sometimes happens," he began, when the door closed, "that we are forced to change our plans, owing to an unexpected event. Since you were here this morning, I feel that what has happened in the interim, warrants us in our decision. In view of that, I wish to say that for the present at least, we will not send Mr. Dalton to visit your cannery."

"Why not?"

Mr. Dupont shoved an evening _Times_ across his desk and pointed to a marked item that appeared therein.

"That will explain for itself," he said.

Gregory read:

RIOT AMONG THE FISHERMEN AT LEGONIA

This afternoon when the foreign fishermen were peaceably engaged with their seine, they were brutally attacked by a number of ex-soldiers and sailors employed by the Legonia Fish Cannery, and driven from the beach.

Gregory read no further.

"It's a lie, Mr. Dupont," he said hotly. "My men do not pick fights. A few nights ago the alien fishermen endeavored to crowd them off the beach and they----"

Mr. Dupont interrupted with a peremptory wave of his hand.

"You may be right," he said. "But I'm not interested. Whatever the merits of the case are, the fact remains that you are mixed up in a labor brawl with foreigners. As I stated to you this morning, we are conservative and until you get matters adjusted amicably with your compet.i.tors, we do not care to go into your proposition further."

He rose at once, showing the interview was at an end. Gregory followed him to the door. In the outside office he found his friend waiting.

Hawkins, clad in outing clothes, was smiling broadly. The smile, however, quickly disappeared as he caught sight of his friend's face.

"Anything the matter?" he asked.

Gregory walked with him to the street before replying. Then he bought a copy of _The Times_ and the two men read the account of the fight with the aliens.

"What of that?" Hawkins queried. "Your men licked them, didn't they?"

"Yes. But it cost me my chance with Winfield & Camby. Mr. Dupont called the whole thing off."

"The devil he did!"

Hawkins' smile returned.

"Why, the old fool," he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed. "Can't he see that this will only be publicity for your brands. Why, darn his crinkled old hide, I'll show him. And I'll bet I'll have him eating out of your hand in less than a week."