"Who's getting the swelled-head?" demanded Gregory, the smile passing from his face.
"Well, I'm not," retorted the girl, laying special stress on the pronoun. "I've seen too much of this game to have my head turned by a little luck."
Gregory overlooked the implication and admitted soberly:
"Yes, we sure have had luck. There's no denying that. I never had any idea the boys would take to the game the way they have."
"They wouldn't if it hadn't been for my fishermen taking all the trouble they did with them. Why, a lot of those fellows were seasick when they first came down here. They were 'rocking-chair sailors.' My men made them what they are. I don't see any luck in that."
Gregory smiled provokingly.
"No, I don't suppose there was," he said. "What I meant was I was lucky in getting hold of men who really wanted to learn. You've admitted several times that they got along faster than you had any idea they would."
"Anybody could catch fish the way they've been running the last few weeks," evaded Dickie. "I never saw anything like it before. Nearly every boat comes in with a good haul. And when the local market was glutted at Port Angeles, you shot them up north and just tumbled on to a good market as Frisco was out of fish. That was nothing but luck," she challenged.
"And now we have orders for all canned stuff we can turn out," Gregory put in.