"Miss Berry."

"I'm glad to meet her. I officed her out of a rowboat and told her I was Mr. Yonkers of New York. We was breezing along on the bit till Clyde broke it up. He called me Fraser, and it was cold in a minute. Fraser is a cheap name, anyhow; I'm sorry I took it."

"Do you mean to say it isn't your real name?" asked his companion, in genuine bewilderment.

"Naw! Switzer is what I was born with. Say it slow and it sounds like an air brake, don't it? I never won a bet as long as I packed it around, and Fraser hasn't got it beat by more than a lip."

"Well!" Boyd breathed deeply. "You are the limit."

"Speaking of clothes, I notice you are dressed up like a fruit salad. What is it? The yacht!"

"Yes."

"You'd better hurry; she sails at high tide."

"Sails!"

"Alton told me so, and said that he was going along."

"Thank Heaven for that, anyhow, but--I don't understand about the other."

Boyd voiced the question that was foremost in his mind.

"Did you know Cherry in the 'upper country'?"

"Nope."

"She said you did."

"She said that?"

"Yes. She thought you had told me who she was."

"h.e.l.l! She might have known I'd never crack. It's her own business, and-- I've got troubles enough with this cannery on my hands."

"I wish you had told me," said Emerson.

"Why? There's no use of rehearsing the dog-eared dope. n.o.body can live the past over again, and who wants to repeat the present? It's only the future that's worth while. I guess her future is just as good as anybody's."

"What she told me came as a shock."

"Fingerless" Fraser grunted. "I don't know why. For my part, I can't stand for an ingenue. If ever I get married, Cherry's the sort for me. I'm out of the kindergarten myself, and I'd hate to spend my life cutting paper figures for my wife. No, sir! If I ever seize a frill, I want her to know as much as me; then she won't tear away with the first dark-eyed diamond broker that stops in front of my place to crank up his whizz-buggy. You never heard of a wise woman breaking up her own home, did you? It's the pink-faced dolls from the seminary that fall for Bertie the Beautiful Cloak Model."

Fraser whittled himself a toothpick as he went on:

"A feller in my line of business don't gather much useful information, but he certainly gets Jerry to the female question in all its dips, angles, and spurs. Cherry Malotte is the squarest girl I ever saw, and while she may have been crowded at the turn, she'll finish true. It takes a thoroughbred to do that, and the guy that gets her will win his Derby.

Now, those fillies on the yacht, for instance, warm up fine, but you can't tell how they'll run."

"We're not talking of marriage," said Boyd, as he rose. When he had gone out, Fraser ruminated aloud:

"Maybe not! I ain't very bright, and we may have been talking about the weather. However, if you're after that wild-flower dame with the cold- storage talk instead of Cherry Malotte, why, I hope you get her. There's no accounting for tastes. I certainly did my best to send you along this morning." Turning to the j.a.p steward, he remarked, sagely: "My boy, always remember one thing--if you can't boost, don't knock."

Wayne Wayland was by no means sure that Boyd would not make good his threat to visit the yacht that evening, and in any case he wished to be prepared. A scene before the other pa.s.sengers of _The Grande Dame_ was not to be thought of. Besides, if the young man were roughly handled, it would make him a martyr in Mildred's eyes. He talked over the matter with Marsh, who suggested that the sightseers should dine ash.o.r.e and spend the evening with him at the plant. With only Mildred and her father left on the yacht, there would be no possibility of scandal, even if Emerson were mad enough to force an interview.

"And what is more," declared Mr. Wayland, "I shall give orders to clear on the high tide. That fellow is a menace, and the sooner Mildred is away from him the better. You shall go with us, my boy."

But when he went to Mildred, to explain the nature of his arrangements, he found her in a furious temper.

"Why did you announce my engagement to Mr. Marsh?" she demanded, angrily.

"The whole ship is talking about it. By what right did you do that?"

"I did it for your own sake," said the old man. "This whelp, Emerson, has made a fool of you and of me long enough. There must be an end to it."

"But I don't love Willis Marsh!" she cried. "You forget I am of age."

"Nonsense! Willis is a fine fellow, he loves you, and he is the best business man for his years I have ever known. If it were not for this foolish boy-and-girl affair, you would return his love. He suits me, and-- well, I have put my foot down, so there's an end of it."

"Do you intend to force me to marry him?"

Mr. Wayland recognized the danger-signal.

"Absurd! Take all the time you wish; you'll come around all right. That reprobate you were engaged to defied me and defended that woman."

He told of his stormy interview with Boyd, concluding: "It is fortunate we found him out, Mildred. I have guarded you all my life. I have lavished everything money could buy upon you. I have built up the greatest fortune in all the West for you. I have kept you pure and sweet and good--and to think that such a fellow should dare--" Mr. Wayland choked with anger.

"The one thing I cannot stand in a man or a woman is immorality. I have lived clean myself, and my son shall be as clean as I."

"Did you say that Boyd threatened to come aboard this evening?" questioned the girl.

"Yes. But I swore that he should not."

"And still he repeated his threat?" Mildred's eyes were strangely bright.

She was smiling as if to herself.

"He did, the braggart! He had better not try it."

"Then he'll come," said Mildred.

It was twilight when Willis Marsh was rowed out to the yacht. He found Mr.

Wayland and Mildred seated in deck-chairs enjoying the golden sunset while the old man smoked. Marsh explained that he had excused himself from his guests to go whither his inclination led him, and drew his seat close to Mildred, rejoicing in the fact that no one could gainsay him this privilege. In reality, he had been drawn to _The Grande Dame_ largely by a lurking fear of Emerson. He was not entirely sure of the girl, and would not feel secure until the sh.o.r.es of Kalvik had sunk from sight and his rival had been left behind. But in spite of his uneasiness, it was the happiest moment of his life. If he had failed to ruin his enemy in the precise way he had planned, he was fairly satisfied with what he had accomplished. He had shifted the battle to stronger shoulders, and he had gained the woman he wanted. Moreover, he had won the unfaltering loyalty of Wayne Wayland, the dominant figure of the West. Nothing could keep him now from the success his ambition demanded. It added to his satisfaction to note the group of l.u.s.ty sailors at the rail. He almost wished that Emerson would try to come aboard, that he might witness his discomfiture.

Meanwhile he did his best to be pleasant.

His complaisant enjoyment was interrupted at last by the approach of the second officer, who announced that a lady wished to see Mr. Wayland.

"A lady?" asked the old man, in surprise.

"Yes, sir. She came alongside in a small boat, just now, with some natives. I stopped her at the landing, but she says she must see you at once."

"Ah! That woman again." Mr. Wayland's jaws snapped. "Tell her to begone. I refuse to see her."