The Argosy, Vol. 76, No. 3 — page 159: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

I, HE Alaska salmon season was closed. The last case of bright tins had been stowed into the hold of the big ship Indian Star; the manager of the cannery that stood in the tidewash under the hill locked his office door, tossed the key into the water, and waved his arms toward the ship. Captain Merkel waved back, a small boat came out for the last party of us, the anchor chanty rose into the colorful air, sails dropped from the yards, and on the strong stream of the ebb tide we swung out of our sum- mer’s harbor and joined the great fall flight of the fishing fleet southward. “ That ends this trip,” said Manager Evans, grimly surveying the crew he had fought with and ruled for five months. ‘ And I’m glad of it!” “ So am I,” said his wife, reddening as she saw her husband’s eyes follow the slim figure of Meta Braun, his stenographer. “We'll make the Golden Gate in sixteen days,” the captain interrupted. He hadn’t observed his superior’s daily life for several months without gaining a deep sympathy for Mrs. Evans. As one man to another, he saw no reason why he should specially blame reation od dohn Fleming Wilson Evans for liking Meta, whose youth was spiced with quick wit and a suffi- cient dash of the flirt to make her worth watching. But he hated to see Mrs. Evans lose her temper. She flushed so slowly and painfully under her tan, and when an outburst did come lost her good looks for a week. And she was ex- ceedingly strong and beautiful. “Yes,” he went on deliberately, “well fetch down in sixteen days with this nor’wester whooping us along.” Meta Braun drew in a long, easy breath, glanced upward at the drum- ming sails, and looked directly at Mrs. Fivans. “Only sixteen days more!” she said with an almost imperceptible draw! that brought the color again into the other woman’s cheeks. “ And then?’ demanded Rolf An- erson, the head bookkeeper. Miss Braun glanced at him and shook her head. “I don’t know,” she replied with childlike wistfulness. “You know I hate to go back into an old office after this being out in the open and seeing the water and the mountains.”’ In that moment Mrs. Evans’s deep- er instincts told her that Meta Braun was really lovable, that she wanted 629 COMicdoo S CO@