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"You have seen nothing of the speed-boat from Legonia?" Mascola shook his head in answer to the question and reached for the bottle which stood on the table in Bandrist's ranch-house. Bandrist jerked it away. "Cut that out," he said sternly. "You've had enough. To-night you have work to do. You must keep sober." Mascola scowled, glaring angrily at the islander as he went on: "Mr.
And a Swede liked to talk too. Why not get out of town for a while till the thing blew over? He wasn't afraid of the dago and his whole crowd. But what was the use of starting a row? Besides he was ready to move anyway. He reflected suddenly that the midnight train for Frisco stopped at Legonia on signal. That would give him time to throw his stuff together. He had already drawn his money.
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-class shape. Necessary repairs and alterations had been made. Supplies and material were on hand.
As he followed after the others down the winding sheep-trail, before Gregory's eyes flashed a vision of his father's battered face staring up at him from the canvas bundle on the hatch. Then came the memory of Mascola's insolent look of triumph when he had first beheld Richard Gregory's son on the wharf at Legonia. Why had he not seen and understood before this? But then, he had had no proof.
Yet surely he was not mistaken in the man's identity. 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 Dickie Lang.
Travel a straight course for Legonia and keep the radio going all the time. We'll be alongside in the Richard. Give us the answer you get over the radio by megaphone. Perhaps then it won't be necessary for us to go all the way over. But if it should be, we've got to get there before four o'clock."
"They've hardly had time to make it yet," objected Dickie Lang. "I wouldn't expect to hear from them at Legonia for at least two hours." The wireless operator appeared on deck as the Pelican drew abreast of the Albatross. "Message for Mr. Gregory," he shouted. Gregory took the paper and glanced eagerly at the message.
Opening a small safe which stood in a corner, he resumed his examination of his father's papers. In a vague sort of way he regarded his legacy of the Legonia Fish Cannery as a trust. In the atmosphere of this room this feeling was always enhanced, the trust more sacred. Here Richard Gregory had worked, planned, worried. Every detail of the room spoke eloquently from father to son.
And don't you suppose in fishing with a man like Bill Lang, a person learns something? Doesn't that more than make up for the handicap of being a woman?" The young man waited for a chance to put in a word but none came. Becoming angrier each minute, she hurried on: "There isn't a man in Legonia but you who would have said that. Not even Mascola. He hates me only because I do know my business.
The effect of Mascola's defeat was far-reaching, and, magnified by Hawkins' publicity, gave to the Legonia Fish Cannery a place of prominence in the public eye. Taking immediate advantage of the growing popular interest, Winfield & Camby entered into an extensive advertising campaign on behalf of Gregory's product.
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