"Every hour of the day, and the days are long," said Fraser, cheerfully. "But he ain't crippled; he could have walked away if he'd wanted to. It's a good thing he didn't, though, because she's done more to win this bet for us than we've done ourselves." "She's unusually pretty," the girl remarked, coldly. "Yes, and she's just as bright as she is good-looking--but I don't care for blondes." Fraser gazed admiringly at the brown hair before him, and rolled his eyes eloquently. "I'm strong for brunettes, I am. It's the Creole blood in me." She gathered up her wild flowers and rose, saying: "I must be going." "I'll go with you." He jumped to his feet with alacrity. "Thank you. I prefer to walk alone." "Couldn't think of it. I'll--" But he paused at the lift of her brows and the extraordinarily frigid look she gave him. He stood in his tracks, watching her descend the river trail. "Declined with thanks!" he murmured. "I'd need ear-muffs and mittens to handle her. I think I'll build me some bonfire and thaw out. She must own the mint." At the upper cannery Mildred found Alton Clyde with the younger Berry girl. She called him aside, and talked earnestly with him for several minutes. "All right," he said, at length. "I'm glad to get out, of course; the rest is up to you." Mildred's lips were white and her voice hard as she cried: "I am thoroughly sick of it all. I have played the fool long enough." "Now look here," Clyde objected, weakly, "you may be mistaken, and--it doesn't look like quite the square thing to do." But she silenced him with an angry gesture. "Leave that to me. I'm through with him." "All right. Let's hunt up the governor." Together they went to the office in search of Wayne Wayland. A half-hour later, when Clyde rejoined Miss Berry, she noticed that he seemed ill at ease, gazing down the bay with a worried, speculative look in his colorless eyes. Boyd Emerson roused from his death-like slumber late in the afternoon, still worn from his long strain and aching in every muscle. He was in wretched plight physically, but his heart was aglow with gladness. Big George was still at the trap, and the unceasing rumble from across the way told him that the fish were still coming in. As he was finishing his breakfast, a watchman appeared in the doorway. "There's a launch at the dock with some people from above," he announced. "I stopped them, according to orders, but they want to see you." "Show them to the office." Boyd rose and went into the other building, where, a moment later, he was confronted by Wayne Wayland and Willis Marsh. The old man nodded to him shortly. Marsh began: "We heard about your good-fortune. Mr. Wayland has come to look over your plant." "It is not for sale." "How many fish are you getting?" "That is my business." He turned to Mr. Wayland. "I hardly expected to see you here. Haven't you insulted me enough?"