with a grin that lit up the whole of his mahogany features. "Y'see we're
loaded well-nigh rail under with stuff for your mill, which don't leave
a dog's chance for the other folks along the coast. The Company guesses
they got to put on a two thousand tonner. The _Myra_. I haven't a kick
comin'. She's all a seaboat. Still, I'm kind of sorry, don't you know.
I've known the _Lizzie_ since she came off the stocks, which is mostly
forty years, and we're mighty good friends, which ain't allus the way.
I'd say, too, I'm getting old for a change. Still--."

Standing shook his head.

"What do they say? 'Hardy' by name, 'Hardy' by nature. The toughest and
best sailorman on the Labrador coast! Well, I'm sorry you don't feel
good about it. But," he added with a smile, "it means a good deal to us
getting a bigger packet."

Captain Hardy nodded.

"Thankee kindly. It's good to know folks reckon a fellow something more
than just part of a kettle of scrap like this old packet. But I'd have
been glad to finish my job with her. Still, times don't stand around
even in Labrador." He finished up with something in the nature of a
sigh.

The work going forward was full of interest. But it was not the work
that held Standing, or the watchful eyes of Bat Harker. Their sole
interest was in the personality of the crew and the five passengers,
mostly "drummers," from the great business houses of Quebec and
Montreal, who were struggling to land their trunks of samples and get
them off to the offices of the mill so as to complete their trade before