The Restless Foot

Being in a town that was at once a frontier camp and a minor seaport,
and being there at a season when the major industry of salmon-packing
was at its height, the search of Tommy Ashe and Thompson for a job was
soon ended. They were taken on as cannery hands--a "hand" being the term
for unskilled laborers as distinguished from fishermen, can machine
experts, engineers and the like. As such they were put to all sorts of
tasks, work that usually found them at the day's end weary, dirty with
fish scales and gurry, and more than a little disgusted. But they were
getting three dollars and a half a day, and it was practically clear,
which furnished a strong incentive to stick it out as long as the season
lasted--a matter of two more months.

"By that time," said Tommy Ashe, "we'll have enough coin to venture into
fresh fields. My word, but we do earn this money. It's the nastiness I
object to, not the work. I shan't forget this first hundred dollars I've
earned by the sweat of my manly brow."

In the fullness of time the salmon run came to an end. The pack being
finished the hands were paid off. In company with half a hundred others,
Ashe and Thompson were shipped from the Suchoi Bay Canneries back to
Wrangel again.

In Wrangel, before they had been there four hours, Thompson got the
offer of work in a pile camp. He took his prospective job under
advisement and hunted up Tommy Ashe. Tommy dangled his legs over the
edge of the bed in their room, and considered the matter.