"I did, sir. Nan and I came down from Bremerton in her, sir."

The Laird owned many ships, and he noted the slurring of the "sir" as
only an old sailor can slur it. And there was a naval base at
Bremerton.

"You're an old sailor, aren't you, Brent?" he pursued.

"Yes, sir. I was retired a chief petty officer, sir. Thirty years'
continuous service, sir--and I was in the mercantile marine at
sixteen. I've served my time as a shipwright. Am--am I intruding here,
sir?"

The Laird smiled, and followed the smile with a brief chuckle.

"Well--yes and no. I haven't any title to this land you've elected to
occupy, although I created it. You see, I'm sort of lord of creation
around here. My people call me 'The Laird of Tyee,' and nobody but a
stranger would have had the courage to squat on the Sawdust Pile
without consulting me. What's your idea about it, Brent?"

"I'll go if you want me to, sir."

"I mean what's your idea if you stay? What do you expect to do for a
living?"

"You will observe, sir, that I have fenced off only that portion of
the dump beyond high-water mark. That takes in about half of it--about
an acre and a half. Well, I thought I'd keep some chickens and raise
some garden truck. This silt will grow anything. And I have my launch,