"This is totally different," Boyd objected; but Clyde ran on, his enthusiasm growing as he tinted the mental picture to suit himself. "I'm a splendid fisherman, too, and I've plenty of tackle." "We shall use nets." "Don't do it! It isn't sportsmanlike. I'll take a book of flies and whip that stream to a froth." Emerson interrupted him to explain briefly the process of salmon-catching, but the young man was not to be discouraged. "You give me something to do--something where I don't have to lift heavy weights or carry boxes--and watch me work! I tell you, it's what I've been looking for, and I didn't know it; I'll get as husky as you are and all sunburnt. Tell me the sort of furs and the kind of pistols to buy, and I'll put ten thousand dollars in the scheme. That's all I can spare." "You won't need either furs or firearms," laughed Boyd. "When we get back to Kalvik the days will be long and hot, and the whole country will be a blaze of wild flowers." "That's fine! I love flowers. If I can't catch fish for the cannery, I'll make up for it in some other way." "Can you keep books?" "No; but I can play a mandolin," Clyde offered, optimistically. "I guess a little music would sound pretty good up there in the wilderness." "Can you play a mandolin?" inquired "Fingerless" Fraser, observing the young fellow with grave curiosity. "Sure; I'm out of practice, but--" "Take him!" said Fraser, turning upon Emerson. "He can set on the front porch of the cannery with wild flowers in his hair and play _La Paloma_. It will make those other fish-houses mad with jealousy. Get a window-box and a hammock, and maybe Willis Marsh will run in and spend his evenings with you." "Don't josh!" insisted Clyde, seriously. "I want to go--" "Me josh?" Fraser's face was like wood. "I'll think it over," Emerson said, guardedly. Without warning, the adventurer burst into shrill laughter. "Are you laughing at me?" angrily demanded the city youth. Fraser composed his features, which seemed to have suddenly disrupted. "Certainly not! I just thought of something that happened to my father when I was a little child." Again he began to shake, at which Clyde regarded him narrowly; but his merriment was so impersonal as to allay suspicion, and the young fellow went on with undiminished enthusiasm: "You think it over, and in the mean time I'll get a bunch of the fellows together. We'll all have lunch at the University Club to-morrow, and you can tell them about the affair." Fraser abruptly ended his laughter as Boyd's heel came heavily in contact with his instep under the table. Clyde was again lost in an exposition of his fitness as a fisherman when Fraser burst out: "Hello! There's George. He's walking in his sleep, and thinks this is a manicure stable."