"Gower got your place?" Abbott hazarded.
"Yes. How did you know?"
"Made a guess. I heard he had built a summer home on the southeast end of Squitty. In fact Nelly was up there last summer for a week or so. Hurts, eh, Jack? That little trip to France cost us both something."
MacRae sprang up and walked over to a window. He stood for half a minute staring out to sea, looking in that direction by chance, because the window happened to face that way, to where the Gulf haze lifted above a faint purple patch that was Squitty Island, very far on the horizon.
"I'm not kicking," he said at last. "Not out loud, anyway."
"No," Stubby said affectionately, "I know you're not, old man. Nor am I. But I'm going to get action, and I have a hunch you will too. Now about this fish business. If you think you can get them, I'll certainly go you on that twenty per cent. proposition—up to the point where Gower boosts me out of the game, if that is possible. We shall have to readjust our arrangement then."
"Will you give me a contract to that effect?" MacRae asked.
"Absolutely. We'll get together at the office to-morrow and draft an agreement."
They shook hands to bind the bargain, grinning at each other a trifle self-consciously.
"Have you a suitable boat?" Stubby asked after a little.