"I can't trade on those terms. The rate in question was a special cut. We made it to get in ahead of Merril; but when the time came, you didn't give us an opportunity for tendering for your carrying. In fact, I hear he's getting more than I did. That, however, does not directly concern me, and you no doubt understand your own business; but I should like to mention that the Agapomene's skipper will not wait a day longer than next Thursday."
The canner looked hard at him. "You will excuse my asking if that is a sure thing?"
"You mean am I talking quite straight?" and a suggestive dryness crept into Jimmy's tone. "I can only say that the man, who did not know I was coming here, assured me of it just before I went to sea. It would, of course, be easy for you to wait and find out whether you could believe me. Only the fact that you had done so would naturally place you in a difficulty, since the Agapomene would have gone to sea, and there isn't another vessel offering."
"Well?" said the canner.
Jimmy smiled at him. "I want two things—every case you have ready, and a rate equal to what you're giving Merril. It is not very much, after all. As you know, since Merril's schooners can't get here until there is a change of wind, I could strike you for double."
The canner sat silent a moment or two, and then laughed good-humoredly. "To be quite straight, the last was what I expected. Now, I'm not the only man in this concern, and the people who have the most say are, as usual, in Victoria. I know why they made the deal with Merril, and while, as you say, that does not concern you, it didn't quite please me. Anyway, he hasn't kept his arrangement, and has put the screw on us in several ways; so if you'll warp your boat in we'll heave the cases into her. There's just another thing. Come back when you lighten her, and if this run of fish lasts I'll do what I can to make it worth your while."
Jimmy thanked him, and went out to bring the Shasta alongside the little wharf, after which he went to sleep, though almost every other man on board was kept busy stowing salmon-cases all that night.
It happened that during the earlier hours of it several irate gentlemen who had the control of a good deal of money sat in conclave in Merril's house, which stood just outside the city limits of Vancouver. It was a tastefully furnished room in which they sat, and nobody could have found fault with the wine and cigars on the table, but as it happened both these facts irritated one of the gentlemen.
"I feel tempted to talk quite straight, and I expect you'll understand me, Merril, when I say that you don't seem to have had your usual luck over this wood-pulp deal," he said. "In a general way, it's the other people who take a hand in your ventures who feel the pinch when things don't quite work out right, but in this case you have got to bear it with the rest of us."
Merril, who lay in a big lounge chair, little, portly, and immaculately dressed, looked up at him quietly. "If it's any consolation to you, I'm holding as much stock as the rest of you put together. The thing hits me rather hard, but, as you say, we can only stand up under it—that is, if the appropriation grants are thrown out by the House."