Except for one step on Emerson's part, Marsh would have rested secure, and let time work out his enemy's downfall; but Boyd's precaution in contracting to sell his output in advance threatened to defeat him. Otherwise, Marsh would simply have cut down his rival's catch to the lowest point, and then broken the market in the fall. With the Trust's tremendous resources back of him, he could have afforded to hammer down the price of fish to a point where Emerson would either have been ruined or forced to carry his pack for a year, and in this course he would have been upheld by Wayne Wayland. But as matters stood, such tactics could only result in a serious loss to the brokers who had agreed to take Boyd's catch, and to the Trust itself. It was therefore necessary to work the young man's undoing here and now. Marsh knew that he had already wasted too much time in Kalvik, for he was needed at other points far to the southward; but he could not bear to leave this fight to other hands. Moreover, he was anxiously awaiting the arrival of _The Grande Dame,_ with Mildred and her father. One square of the calendar over his desk was marked in red, and the sight of it gave him fresh determination. On the third day after Boyd's deliverance, Constantine sought him out, in company with several of the native fishermen, translating their demand to be paid for the fish they had caught. "Can't they wait until the end of the week?" Emerson inquired. "No! They got no money--they got no grub. They say little baby is hongry, and they like money now. So soon they buy grub, they work some more." "Very well. Here's an order on the book-keeper." Boyd tore a leaf from his note-book and wrote a few words on it, telling the men to present it at the office. As Constantine was about to leave, he called to him: "Wait! I want to talk with you." The breed halted. "How long have you known Mr. Marsh?" "Me know him long time." "Do you like him?" A flicker ran over the fellow's coppery face as he replied: "Yes. Him good man." "You used to work for him, did you not?" "Yes." "Why did you quit?" Constantine hesitated slightly before answering: "Me go work for Cherry." "Why?" "She good to my little broder. You savvy little chil'ren--so big?" "Yes. I've seen him. He's a fine little fellow. By the way, do you remember that night about two weeks ago when I was at Cherry's house?--the night you and your sister went out?" "I 'member." "Where did you go?" Constantine shifted his walrus-soled boots. "What for you ask?" "Never mind! Where did you go when you left the house?" "Me go Indian village. What for you ask?" "Nothing. Only--if you ever have any trouble with Mr. Marsh, I may be able to help you. I like you--and I don't like him."