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Macrae sharply. 'A reef? 'In my opinion, said the captain, 'the beggars in the submarine have torpedoed us. Attached torpedoes to our keel, sir, he explained, respectfully touching his cap and shifting the quid in his cheek. He was a bluff tar of the good old school. 'Merciful heavens! exclaimed Mr. Macrae, his face paling. 'What can this new outrage mean?
Something in him cried out for affection, for companionship, for a woman's tenderness bestowed unequivocally. The mating instinct was driving him, as it drove the birds. But its urge was not the general, unspecified longing which turns a man's eyes upon any desirable woman. Very clearly, imperiously, this dominant instinct in MacRae had centered upon Betty Gower. He was at war with his instincts.
Mount, visited all the animals, gone round the garden, and made two beautiful posies of autumn flowers, one for her little sister and the other for Kalliope, discovered that Fergus's precious machine had been ruthlessly made away with, but secured his tools, -she found eating partridge in solitary grandeur rather dreary work, though she had all the bread- sauce to herself, and cream to her apple tart, to say nothing of Macrae, waiting upon her as if she had been a duchess, and conversing in high exultation upon the marriages, only regretting that one gentleman should be a civilian; he had always augured that all his young ladies would be in the Service, and begging that he might be made aware of the wedding-day, so as to have the bells rung.
If such a thing as free and unlimited competition for salmon took place he might need more than one outlet for his carriers. MacRae was not engaged in a hazardous business for pastime. He had an objective, and this objective was contingent upon making money. From the American source he learned that a good season was anticipated for the better grades of salmon.
She ain't comin' t' no harm just now, or it wouldn't be so blamed peaceful around there. It's only a matter of a couple uh hours t' daylight, anyhow. What d'yuh think?" "Under the circumstances, the only thing we can do is to wait," MacRae assented, and I fancied that there was a reluctant quiver in his usually steady voice.
He was puzzled, not alone about Gower, but about himself. He had dreamed of a fierce satisfaction in beating this man down, in making him know poverty and work and privation, rubbing his nose in the dirt, he had said to himself. He had managed it. Gower had joined the ranks of broken men. He was finished as a figure in industry, a financial power. MacRae knew that, beyond a doubt.
They could pick up one of the floating giants of our fleet, far off to the East, but North, West and South were empty wastes of water. 'Three o'clock has come and gone. I hope there has been no accident, said Mr. Macrae nervously. 'But where are those thieves? He absently pressed his repeater, it tingled out the half-hour. 'It is odd, said Bude. 'Hullo, look there, what's that?
They drifted away in a dance, sat the next one out together with Stubby and a slim young thing in orange satin whose talk ran undeviatingly upon dances and sports and motor trips, past and anticipated. Listening to her, Jack MacRae fell dumb. Her father was worth half a million. Jack wondered how much of it he would give to endow his daughter with a capacity for thought.
When I have an hour to spare I lie down and sleep. If I stopped to play every time I came to town do you think you'd get your sixty thousand bluebacks in July?" Stubby looked at MacRae a second, at his work-torn hands and weary eyes. "I guess you're right," he said slowly. "But the old stone house will still be up on the corner when the salmon run is over. Don't forget that."
He found out what he wanted to know easily enough. Gower had got his birthright for a song. Donald MacRae had borrowed six thousand dollars through a broker. The land was easily worth double, even at wild-land valuation. But old Donald's luck had run true to form. He had not been able to renew the loan. The broker had discounted the mortgage in a pinch.
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