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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of El Diablo, by Brayton Norton
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: El Diablo
+
+Author: Brayton Norton
+
+Illustrator: Dan Sayre Groesbeck
+
+Release Date: February 8, 2009 [EBook #28022]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK EL DIABLO ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by David Clarke, Erica Pfister-Altschul and the
+Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+(This file was produced from images generously made
+available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: "May I come aboard your vessel?"]
+
+
+
+
+EL DIABLO
+
+_By_
+BRAYTON NORTON
+
+ILLUSTRATED BY
+DAN SAYRE GROESBECK
+
+
+INDIANAPOLIS
+THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY
+PUBLISHERS
+
+
+Copyright 1921
+SUNSET MAGAZINE, INC.
+
+Copyright 1921
+THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY
+
+
+_Printed in the United States of America_
+
+
+PRESS OF
+BRAUNWORTH & CO.
+BOOK MANUFACTURERS
+BROOKLYN, N.Y.
+
+
+
+
+_To_
+MY WIFE
+"STERLING"
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+CHAPTER                                     PAGE
+
+     I  FORBIDDEN WATERS                       1
+
+    II  JETSAM OF THE SEA                     10
+
+   III  TANGLED THREADS                       18
+
+    IV  THE WORK OF THEIR FATHERS             30
+
+     V  THE WAY OF THE GULL                   48
+
+    VI  THE LAW OF THE FISHERMEN              63
+
+   VII  YOU'LL HAVE TO SHOW ME                72
+
+  VIII  A DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE         77
+
+    IX  DIABLO LUCK                           83
+
+     X  SALVAGE                               93
+
+    XI  REFUSING TO BE BLUFFED               105
+
+   XII  A WARNING                            118
+
+  XIII  THE STRIKE                           133
+
+   XIV  THE MOTHER OF INVENTION              145
+
+    XV  BUSINESS AND PLEASURE                160
+
+   XVI  THE BAITED PAWN                      169
+
+  XVII  THE FANGS OF MASCOLA                 180
+
+ XVIII  THE COST OF DEFEAT                   186
+
+   XIX  ROCK FOLLOWS UP                      196
+
+    XX  PLANS FOR A SHOW-DOWN                211
+
+   XXI  THE GRAY GHOST                       222
+
+  XXII  STRICTLY ON THE DEFENSIVE            237
+
+ XXIII  BATTLE OF NORTHWEST HARBOR           245
+
+  XXIV  A FIGHTING CHANCE                    253
+
+   XXV  THE BANKER AT THE HELM               264
+
+  XXVI  THE VALUE OF PUBLICITY               280
+
+ XXVII  TO SOLVE THE MYSTERY                 291
+
+XXVIII  THE ISLAND'S PRISONER                304
+
+  XXIX  UNDER ORDERS                         315
+
+   XXX  THE FIGHT IN THE CAVE                325
+
+  XXXI  BENEATH THE WATERS                   340
+
+ XXXII  FOR ALL THE WORLD TO KNOW            352
+
+
+
+
+EL DIABLO
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+FORBIDDEN WATERS
+
+
+Richard Gregory stirred restlessly in his sleep vaguely aware of an
+unfamiliar sound, a faint tapping, insistent, disturbing. He wakened
+sharply and sat bolt upright, conscious of the fact that he was fully
+dressed. Then he remembered.
+
+"All right, Bill," he called softly. "Coming."
+
+It took but a minute to shove his automatic into his pocket and secure
+his rifle from the corner. Groping his way to the door he stood
+shivering on the threshold, staring into the thick gray fog which
+enveloped him.
+
+A hand touched his shoulder. Strong fingers tightened on his arm.
+
+"This way," a low voice directed. "Careful, don't scuff."
+
+Gregory started to speak but a warning pressure of the big fingers
+restrained him. His companion led the way. He followed in silence.
+Through the winding streets of the little fishing village they went,
+the familiar landmarks about them looming grotesque and mystical in the
+low-hanging fog. At length the acrid air of the sea assailed their
+nostrils and the silence of the night was broken by the noisy splashing
+of a marsh-loon.
+
+Bill Lang stopped suddenly. Faintly through the gray void came the
+muffled gulping of an under-water exhaust. Huddled together they stood
+listening. To Richard Gregory the sound indicated only the slow approach
+of a motor-boat. To the trained ear of the fisherman it meant that
+Mexican Joe was on time with the _Sea Gull_.
+
+Lang led on down the loosely boarded wharf piled high with ill-smelling
+fish-boxes and paused at the head of a narrow gangway, looking back,
+listening. Close by the dock Gregory discerned the outline of a
+fishing-boat, magnified by the fog into whimsical proportions.
+Descending cautiously, he followed Lang aboard and groped his way into
+the protecting shelter of the engine-house. The cold mist clung to his
+flesh and he drew his coat closer about him. The soft breathing of the
+heavy-duty motor became more pronounced, more labored. The clutch was
+in. They were backing out into the stream. He glanced above him at the
+stay where the starboard side-lamp hung. But the grayness was unbroken
+by a single ray of green.
+
+Lang was running dark.
+
+It was taking a long chance on such a night as this, Gregory reflected.
+But then the whole business was a long chance. And Lang knew his
+business.
+
+Imbued with a fisherman's sixth sense of feeling his way along familiar
+channels rendered unfamiliar by fog, Bill Lang piloted his craft
+skilfully down the silent bay in the direction of the open sea.
+
+Crouching in the bow, Mexican Joe sought with cat-like eyes to pierce
+the gray veil of blinding fog. Narrowly averting collision with
+unlighted harbor-boats, bumping at times over sandy shoals, plowing
+through grass-grown mud-flats and skirting dangerous reefs with only the
+smallest margin of safety, they came at last to the jettied outlet of
+Crescent Bay.
+
+The roar of the breakers sounded ominously close through the gray canopy
+of fog. The little craft rocked briskly in the trough of the swell as
+Lang threw the wheel over and headed out to sea. Flashing a small light
+over the compass, which served as an improvised binnacle, he peered
+intently at the instrument. Then he spoke softly to the man forward.
+
+"Take the wheel, Joe."
+
+When the Mexican had relieved him Lang bent low over the compass and
+examined his watch. Then he joined Gregory.
+
+"Twelve o'clock," he announced. "We've got to make Diablo before
+daybreak. Sixty-five miles in less than four hours. That means hurry in
+weather like this."
+
+He turned to the man at the wheel.
+
+"Crowd her, Joe," he called. "We're taking chances to-night. If we hit
+anybody we might as well hit hard."
+
+"Do you think we got out without being seen?"
+
+Lang shook his head sagely in the darkness.
+
+"Not much of a chance," he answered after a moment. "Couldn't have had a
+better night, though. But it's mighty hard to slip anything over on the
+dago. If the fog would lift up it would be even shootin' you'd see one
+of Mascola's outfit trailin' us astern. We've got him nervous, I tell
+you."
+
+"It's high time they were getting nervous," Gregory rejoined. "When they
+try to browbeat American fishermen off the high seas and coastal waters
+it's time somebody was getting nervous."
+
+He was silent for a moment and Lang as usual only grunted his assent.
+Then Gregory went on:
+
+"But there's something else that's making them nervous, Lang. Something
+they are doing around that devil-island. What kinds of laws they're
+breaking out there nobody knows. They may be doing anything from
+shooting fish to catching chicken-halibut or baby barracuda. We don't
+know what. But we do know they're mighty touchy on who cruises round El
+Diablo. When our boats get around that infernal island something always
+happens. You know that."
+
+Lang's grunt was emphatic and Gregory concluded:
+
+"That's why it's up to us to find out what it is. It's hard enough to
+get the fish as it is without Mascola staking out the water like he
+owned it and telling us to keep out."
+
+For some time the two men leaned together against the engine-house, each
+keeping his own counsel, each busied with his own thoughts. Then Gregory
+spoke:
+
+"If anything happens to me to-night, Lang, keep all this business to
+yourself until my son comes home. Tell him. No one else. We want to get
+to the bottom of this thing ourselves without any one else butting in to
+bungle the job. Do you understand?"
+
+When Lang had gone to relieve the Mexican at the wheel Richard Gregory's
+thoughts turned to his son overseas. Should he have waited until his
+return? He wondered. It was a young man's work, such a job as this,--and
+yet,--no, it was better to get to the bottom of the thing to-night. His
+head sank lower on his breast. Perhaps he could snatch a few winks of
+sleep. He might need it.
+
+The muffled rattle of the anchor-chain caused him to waken sharply,
+stiff with cold. The motor was silent. The launch rocked lazily. Through
+a rift in the fog he saw a rocky beach only a stone's throw away. They
+were anchored close by the shore.
+
+"Hell-Hole," announced Lang in a whisper.
+
+Gregory picked up his rifle.
+
+For a moment the big fisherman by his side hesitated. Then he said: "Why
+not stay on the _Gull_, Mr. Gregory? Let Joe go ashore with me."
+
+"No."
+
+The answer was decisive. There were no explanations. Lang knew it was
+final. Assisted by the Mexican, he swung the dory free and lowered it
+quietly into the water. Helping Gregory into the small boat he turned to
+the Mexican and spoke rapidly in Spanish. Gregory could catch only the
+substance of a few sentences. Lang was telling Joe to stand by for a
+quick get-away. To watch the beach and start the anchor when he saw them
+coming. And above all he was to keep quiet.
+
+The bow of the dory grated on the beach. The two men stepped out and
+without a backward glance slowly disappeared into the fog.
+
+Huddled in the bow, Mexican Joe waited by the anchor-chain, his eyes
+searching the little cove. For a long time he sat thus, not even daring
+to light a cigarette. Once his straining ears caught the muffled exhaust
+of a motor-launch. It came very close but the fog guarded him well and
+he heard it pass on. What the two men were doing upon the island
+concerned Mexican Joe not at all. The devil-isle was filled with
+secrets. Why should he try to fathom them? He was paid to obey and Senor
+Lang had twice saved his life.
+
+A sound from the shore caused Joe to struggle to his feet and begin
+hauling on the chain. Then he looked again, stopped and straightened up.
+
+There were three men coming along the beach, four,--five.
+
+Joe dropped behind the rail and watched them climb over the rocks and
+halt by the empty dory. Then he heard the sound of low voices in a
+foreign tongue, and shivered. The voices of the men on the beach grew
+fainter. They were minutely examining the dory. One lifted his arm and
+pointed seaward in the direction of the _Sea Gull_.
+
+The Mexican crept to his sawed-off shotgun loaded with buck-shot.
+Securing the weapon he made his way again to the bow and waited. The
+rock-bound cove was silent. The dory was still on the beach. But the men
+were gone.
+
+At length came the rattle of loose stones mingled with the sound of
+low-pitched voices. _Gracious a Dios_. It was Senor Lang and Senor
+Gregory. Joe's hand leaped to the anchor-chain. There would be need to
+hurry. He tugged hard at the heavy cable, then he stopped, straightened
+and screamed a warning.
+
+Gregory and Lang whirled about only a few feet from the dory. From the
+shadowed crevices in the rocks, men leaped forward and hurled themselves
+to the beach. About the skiff bright jets of flame cut the fog. Came the
+sharp report of an automatic, twice,--three times.
+
+Mexican Joe watched the unequal struggle, huddled against the rail. His
+eyes brightened with fear. Twice he raised his gun, but his hand shook.
+At the distance the shot would scatter. There would be no use. He saw
+the two men fight their way to the dory. Saw Lang reach it, shove it
+into the water. The Senor was safe. _Gracious a Dios_. But no, he was
+going back for Senor Gregory. _Sangre de Christo_, they would all be
+killed.
+
+The fog thickened. The struggling forms merged, grotesquely intermingled
+and became indistinct. From behind the gray curtain came the sound of
+heavy blows, muttered imprecations, groans.
+
+Joe waited for the veil to lift, staring with straining eyes, cursing
+softly. _Los Senores_ were being murdered before his eyes and he could
+do nothing. Through a rift in the fog he saw Gregory with his back to
+the cliff fighting back the savage horde which were pressing hard upon
+him. He was using his rifle as a club. The men were falling away from
+him. Lang had cleared the way to the skiff; was almost at his
+companion's side.
+
+From the overhanging ledge above, two dark figures leaped suddenly upon
+the man beneath, wrenching his gun from his hand, crushing him to the
+sand. Lang fell upon the group of struggling figures, fighting like a
+madman. Then he staggered, dropped to his knees and went down before the
+onslaught.
+
+Again the gray pall drifted down from the tall crags above and blotted
+out the scene.
+
+Joe staggered to his feet, grasping the wire-stays for support. Then he
+stiffened and stood listening. The muffled purr of a high-powered motor
+disturbed the silence. From out the gloom to starboard he saw the bow of
+a big motor-boat cut the fog. The Mexican shrieked a warning and
+tightened his clutch on the stays.
+
+The strange craft veered, the sharp bow swung over. With wide-open
+engines, she struck the _Sea Gull_ amidships, full on the beam. Hurled
+to the deck by the impact the Mexican heard the snapping and grinding of
+timbers. He was conscious of falling and the cool rush of waters about
+his head. Then he remembered no more.
+
+Wrapped in a clinging mantle of filmy fog, rock-bound, grim and
+mysterious, the Island of El Diablo frowned at the sea from behind the
+veil of silence. Brave men had sought to fathom her secret but she had
+guarded it well.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+JETSAM OF THE SEA
+
+
+John Blair was worried. Every line of his face, every movement of his
+nervous body showed it. He turned quickly to the bare-footed fisherman
+who blocked the doorway.
+
+"You combed the beach, you say? How far?"
+
+"San Lucas to Port Angeles."
+
+"No signs of wreckage; nothing?"
+
+The fisherman shook his head.
+
+Blair was silent for a moment. Then he asked: "How far out to sea did
+you go?"
+
+"About three miles, 'Dog-face' Jones's workin' out San Anselmo way. Big
+Jack left last night for Diablo."
+
+Blair started. "Diablo," he repeated. "They surely wouldn't have gone
+out there."
+
+Before the fisherman could reply there came an interruption. The door
+opened quickly and a young man strode into the room.
+
+"Mr. Gregory? Is he in?"
+
+Blair looked up quickly at the sound of the voice and ran his eyes over
+the clean-cut figure in the serge uniform. The impression, hastily
+formed, of having met the man before, was strengthened by the roving
+black eyes which were expectantly traveling about the room.
+
+"This is the Legonia Fish Cannery, isn't it?"
+
+Blair nodded. "Yes," he said. "But Mr. Gregory is not here at present."
+
+"When will he be in?"
+
+The words came eagerly with the brusk assurance of an immediate answer.
+The crisp insistence had a decidedly familiar sound. Blair regarded the
+clean-cut face of the young officer intently as he answered:
+
+"I don't know. Will you call again or leave your name?"
+
+"I am Mr. Gregory's son."
+
+Blair came to meet him with outstretched hands.
+
+"I might have known it," he said. "I am Mr. Blair, your father's
+manager. I'm glad to meet you. Your father did not expect you so soon,
+did he?"
+
+The young man shook his head and smiled.
+
+"No," he answered. "Dad thinks I'm still on the other side. I wanted to
+surprise him. I wrote a letter saying I would be home as soon as
+possible. I mailed the letter on the ship which brought me over." A
+boyish look crept into his eyes. "Don't let on when dad comes back that
+you've seen me, will you, Mr. Blair? I have to go back to camp to-night
+and arrange about my discharge. It may be a week before I can be back."
+
+The black eyes grew suddenly wistful.
+
+"Say, Mr. Blair, don't you think there's a chance of my seeing dad
+before I leave? I have until five o'clock to get my train."
+
+Blair was unable to meet the steady gaze of his employer's son. Should
+he tell the boy of his father's strange absence? Voice his own fears and
+suspicions for the safety of Gregory, Sr.? By the time the young man
+returned the mystery might be solved. At least they would know
+something.
+
+"What is wrong, Mr. Blair?"
+
+The question was volleyed with quiet insistence. It demanded an answer.
+The boy would not be put off. He was his father's son. Blair sought to
+put the matter in as favorable a light as possible under the
+circumstances. In a few words he told of the disappearance of Richard
+Gregory.
+
+Kenneth Gregory listened quietly, at times interrupting with rapid-fire
+questions.
+
+"When was he last seen?"
+
+"Three days ago."
+
+"You knew nothing of his plans?"
+
+"Nothing definite," Blair evaded. "He might have gone out with the
+fishermen scouting for albacore. One of Lang's boats turned up missing
+the next morning. Lang himself is missing, too."
+
+"Who is Lang?"
+
+"Your father's fishing captain. He recently bought him a number of new
+boats. They might have gone to try one of them out."
+
+"Nothing has been heard of them since?"
+
+"Not yet. You see it has been very foggy lately all along the coast.
+That has handicapped our search."
+
+"Where can I get a boat?"
+
+Blair shook his head. Then he came closer and put his hand on Kenneth
+Gregory's arm.
+
+"All of the Lang boats are out now, Captain. Everything is being done, I
+can assure you. It would be no use."
+
+"Are there no other boats here than Lang's?"
+
+"Only the alien fleet."
+
+The man in uniform whirled about decisively.
+
+"Then I'll get one of them. Will you show me where they are?"
+
+"It would be no use. They wouldn't go. You see----"
+
+"Let's try."
+
+With some reluctance Blair consented.
+
+"We haven't been getting along any too well with Mascola's outfit
+lately," he explained as they walked along. "I'll stop at Lang's wharf
+first. Maybe some of the boats are back."
+
+Turning on to a small wharf they walked in silence over the loose boards
+down the lane of ill-smelling fish-boxes. At the end of the dock a
+narrow gangway led downward to a small float which rocked lazily in the
+capping swells thrown up by a passing fishing-boat. Close by, another
+wharf jutted out into the bay. Upon it were a number of swarthy
+fishermen, piling nets. Blair stopped abruptly at the head of the
+gangway, his eyes searching the water. The fishing-boat was swinging up
+into the tide and edging closer.
+
+"Is that one of the Lang boats?" he heard Gregory ask.
+
+A paroxysm of coughing prevented Blair's immediate reply. The young
+officer looked eagerly at the approaching craft, upon the bow of which a
+dark-skinned man leaned carelessly against the wire-stays. He noticed
+that the man was tall and straight. Upon his head a gaudy red cap rested
+with a rakish air. His eyes were upon the Lang dock as he stood with
+folded arms and waited for the boat to nose up to the near-by wharf.
+
+Gregory admitted to himself that there was something masterful about the
+red-capped stranger, at the same time, repellent. The crowd of aliens
+moreover, he noticed, fell away respectfully. The newcomer was evidently
+a personage in the community.
+
+Gregory, watching him as he stepped from the launch, instinctively
+disliked him.
+
+"That's Mascola."
+
+Blair bit the words savagely.
+
+Gregory surveyed the newcomer with interest.
+
+"He has a boat," he said. "Let's go over and get it."
+
+Blair put out a restraining hand.
+
+"There would be no use," he said. "Mascola wouldn't let us have that
+boat to save our lives."
+
+Gregory was already on his way to the Italian dock. Blair started to
+overtake him. Then he glanced down the bay and his face brightened.
+
+"Wait," he called. "Here comes one of Lang's boats now. Perhaps they
+will know something."
+
+With the approach of the second fishing-boat came a crowd of curious
+fishing folk of all nationalities. Men, women and children clustered
+about the dock, imbued with a lust for excitement and a morbid desire to
+learn the worst from the latest mystery of the sea. All eyes were held
+by the fishing-boat as it swung about and drew near the float.
+
+Blair shoved his way through the crowd and led Gregory down the gangway.
+Upon the covered hatch of the launch Blair's eye caught sight of two
+rolls of canvas, fashioned bundle-like. Nets most likely. He looked
+eagerly at the fishermen aboard the incoming craft. Their faces caused
+him to look again at the canvas bundles. Then he turned quickly to the
+man by his side.
+
+"Why not wait on the wharf until they come up?" he asked in a low voice
+in which he strove to conceal his agitation.
+
+Kenneth Gregory shook his head. He too had noticed the bundles on the
+hatch.
+
+In silence the launch tied up to the fleet. In silence two bare-footed
+fishermen lifted one of the bundles and carrying it carefully between
+them, stepped out upon the gently rocking float. The salt-stiffened
+canvas unrolled as the men laid their burden down, exposing the body of
+a huge fisherman. His face was battered and bruised and Gregory noticed
+that his hair was red.
+
+Blair's hand on Gregory's arm tightened.
+
+"Good God!" he exclaimed. "It's Lang."
+
+Kenneth Gregory looked down into the face of the big fisherman. Then he
+remembered the other bundle. Blair sought to deter him. But he was too
+late to check the onward rush of the young man across the float. Already
+he was boarding the boat. Blair watched him raise the flap of canvas.
+Saw his eyes searching the folds beneath. At length came voices. A man
+was speaking.
+
+"Found them off Diablo. Went on the rocks at Hell-Hole in the fog. Boat
+was smashed. Bu'sted clean in two."
+
+Gregory scarcely heard them as he knelt on the hatch looking down into
+the face of the one he had traveled seven thousand miles to see.
+
+Blair led him away. As the little procession moved silently down the
+dock the crowd parted respectfully. Eyes that were hard, softened.
+Fishermen took off their hats, holding them awkwardly in their red
+hands. Fisherwomen looked down at the rough boards and crossed
+themselves devoutly.
+
+The cortege passed on. Turning from the dock they threaded their way
+down the narrow street leading to the town. As they neared the alien
+docks, the dusky fishermen uncovered and drew together, awed by the
+presence of the great shadow.
+
+Gregory's arm brushed against a man leaning carelessly against the
+wharf-rail. Raising his eyes from the ground, he beheld the one man of
+all the villagers who had remained unmoved, unsoftened by the spectacle.
+With his red cap shoved back upon his shining black hair the insolent
+stranger stood looking on with folded arms. Gregory noticed that Mascola
+had not even taken the trouble to remove the cigarette which hung damply
+from his lips.
+
+For an instant the two men looked deep into each other's eyes. Then the
+procession passed on.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+TANGLED THREADS
+
+
+The death of his father hurled Kenneth Gregory into a new world--a world
+of unfamiliar faces, of strange standards of value, of vastly different
+problems--the world of business.
+
+Kenneth Gregory had taken this world as he found it. There had been no
+time to moralize upon the situation into which the spinning of the wheel
+had plunged him. There was work to do.
+
+Securing his discharge from the army he had turned to the task of
+settling up his father's estate. The fact that he was the sole heir and
+legal executor simplified matters. But there were complications. These
+he had unraveled with the aid of Farnsworth, the attorney for the
+estate. Then he had come to Legonia and found plenty to do.
+
+Blair, the former manager of the Legonia Fish Cannery, had suffered an
+attack of pneumonia and was ill at a neighboring sanitarium. From him he
+could therefore learn nothing. The books of the company told him but
+little more. Now he was going over the private papers in his father's
+office.
+
+"Are you the boss?"
+
+Kenneth Gregory turned from his perusal of a file of letters and faced a
+young man standing in the doorway. Gregory nodded.
+
+"I'm the owner," he replied pleasantly, noting the well-worn,
+much-patched service uniform of the stranger. "And for the time being,
+boss. My manager is sick. Is there anything I can do for you?"
+
+"Yes. You can give me a job."
+
+Gregory smiled at the frankness of the answer.
+
+"I might at that," he said. "Can you speak Russian or Italian?"
+
+The ex-soldier shook his head as Gregory went on:
+
+"What I need more than anything else just now is an interpreter. I have
+a lot of foreigners working outside cleaning up. I've been having to
+make signs to them all morning."
+
+The soldier's brow wrinkled.
+
+"That's what they told me of this place in Centerville," he said. "They
+said I was only wasting shoe-leather to come down here. That it was no
+place for an American."
+
+"Maybe they're right," Gregory cut in. Then he added: "However, we may
+be able to change things. What can you do?"
+
+The youth's face assumed a more cheerful expression. "I'm a mechanic by
+trade," he answered. "I'll do anything right now."
+
+"Know anything about marine motors?"
+
+"Two or four cycle?"
+
+Gregory pondered. 'Twas best to be on the safe side. "Both," he
+answered.
+
+The soldier shook his head. "You'll have to count me out on the two
+cycles," he said. "Those little peanut-roasters and coffee-grinders are
+new to me. Never had any experience with anything much but Unions and
+Standards. That's what most of the fishermen have in their boats."
+
+Gregory's face cleared.
+
+"I may be able to take you on. I have a lot of motors which will need
+looking after before long. In the meantime if you want to go to work
+cleaning up the house, you can start any time you're ready. What do you
+say?"
+
+"I'll say you've hired a man. My name's Barnes."
+
+Gregory extended his hand. "And mine is Gregory. When do you want to go
+to work?"
+
+"Right away."
+
+Together the two men went out into the fish-laden atmosphere of the
+cannery. Walking down the aisles, flanked on both sides by huge vats and
+silent conveyers, they came upon a number of dark-skinned laborers
+whiling away the time with a scant pretense of work. Stung into a
+semblance of action by the sudden appearance of the boss, the men
+abruptly postponed their conversation and tardily plied their scrubbing
+brooms, meanwhile eying the newcomer with frank disapproval.
+
+Leaving Barnes with the injunction to keep an eye on the men and, if
+possible, induce them to speed up, Gregory returned to his work.
+Passing through the outer office where he had met Mr. Blair upon the day
+of his arrival from overseas, he entered the little room which Richard
+Gregory had used for a private office. Opening a small safe which stood
+in a corner, he resumed his examination of his father's papers.
+
+In a vague sort of way he regarded his legacy of the Legonia Fish
+Cannery as a trust. In the atmosphere of this room this feeling was
+always enhanced, the trust more sacred. Here Richard Gregory had worked,
+planned, worried. Every detail of the room spoke eloquently from father
+to son. Here was begun an unfinished work. Richard Gregory had believed
+in it; had given his life to it.
+
+Farnsworth had said that the business had never paid. That his client
+had purchased it directly against his advice and had continued to throw
+good money after bad ever since. The lawyer advised selling at the first
+good opportunity.
+
+Kenneth Gregory absolutely refused to believe that his father had
+failed. The business had not prospered. That was true. But doubtless
+there were good and sufficient reasons. He continued his examination of
+the contents of the safe, methodically going through the various
+compartments and making notes concerning the papers found therein. At
+length he came to a memorandum which held his attention. It was the
+agreement his father had made with Lang to purchase ten fully-equipped
+fishing-boats for the fisherman.
+
+Gregory studied the penciled notes. His father had reposed untold
+confidence in Lang's integrity. So much was shown by the loose
+phraseology of the document and the extreme latitude given the fisherman
+in compliance with its terms. That this confidence had evidently not
+been misplaced, was evidenced by the promptness with which Lang met the
+payments as they fell due.
+
+Farnsworth, Gregory remembered, had regarded the chattel mortgage on
+Lang's boats and equipment as a most doubtful asset. If Lang had left a
+son the old lawyer had maintained, who would be competent to go on with
+his father's work, the situation would have appeared in a more favorable
+light.
+
+But Lang had left no son. Only a daughter. And, to quote the reputable
+Farnsworth, what chance would any man stand of getting anything out of a
+woman on a loosely drawn contract like that? Figure it profit and loss,
+my boy, he had concluded bruskly.
+
+Like Farnsworth, Gregory too wished that Lang had left a son. It would
+be easier dealing with a man, competent or incompetent, than a woman.
+Well, he would say nothing to the girl for the time being at least. She
+had had enough to bear in the loss of her father. That much he could
+swear to. When she had defaulted the next payment he would make her a
+proposition to buy her boats. Fishing was no business for a girl anyway.
+
+He glanced at the schedule of dates arranged by Lang and his father for
+making the payments and turned to the calendar. One of them was already
+past due. Five hundred dollars should have been paid the week before.
+
+So intent was Gregory upon his study of the contract that he failed to
+hear the opening of the outer office door. His first intimation of the
+presence of a visitor came with a sharp knock upon his half-open door.
+
+"Come in," he called.
+
+A wind-bronzed fisherman stood upon the threshold, dangling a red cap in
+his hand. He bowed gracefully and smiled.
+
+"You are Mr. Gregory?"
+
+Gregory nodded, trying to remember where he had seen the man before.
+Suddenly he remembered. It was on the day his father's body had been
+brought in. Near the alien wharf a man had jostled against him. A man
+with a bright red cap, smoking a cigarette.
+
+"I am Mascola."
+
+The visitor spoke the words slowly as if anxious that none of the
+importance of the introduction might be lost or passed over lightly.
+
+Gregory looked Mascola over carefully. The man's carelessness and
+seeming irreverence on that never-to-be-forgotten day might not have
+been intentional. He must not allow his prejudice to interfere with his
+judgment. That was not business. He resolved to hear what the man had to
+say.
+
+"What do you want?" he asked bluntly.
+
+Mascola walked unbidden to a chair and seated himself before replying:
+"You will want fish before long, Mr. Gregory. I would like to contract
+for my men to get them for you."
+
+Gregory was nettled by Mascola's calm assurance. He had a mind to send
+him packing. Blair, he remembered, had evidently had but little use for
+the Italian. But Blair too might have been prejudiced. It was business
+perhaps to hear the man's proposal.
+
+"What is your proposition?" he asked, hoping Mascola would be brief.
+
+In this he was not disappointed. Mascola plunged his hand into the
+pocket of his vest and drew forth a paper which he placed in Gregory's
+hand.
+
+Gregory ran his eye hastily over the typewritten sheet which contained
+the memorandum of four numbered clauses. They were briefly worded and to
+the point:
+
+    1. The fishermen to furnish albacore, tuna and sardines
+    at the same price paid by the Golden Rule Cannery.
+
+    2. The cannery to assume complete liability for all
+    boats and equipment used by the fishermen in providing
+    fish for it.
+
+    3. The cannery to agree to pay all fines, state and
+    federal, for any violation of fishing or navigation
+    laws.
+
+    4. The cannery to agree, under bonds, to hire no men who
+    are not members of the fishermen's union.
+
+Gregory looked up to meet Mascola's dark eyes regarding him intently.
+
+"That is all," said the Italian boss.
+
+"It's enough," commented Gregory tersely, striving to hold his temper in
+check at the impudence of Mascola's proposal. Any one of the four
+clauses he realized would be amply sufficient to throw him into
+bankruptcy. The first would place him in the hands of his local
+competitor, a Slavonian. The last would deliver all that was left to the
+fisherman's union, also foreigners. By the second clause his property
+would be placed in jeopardy to protect the carelessness or incompetence
+of others, aliens all. And the third, Gregory did not clearly
+understand. To satisfy his curiosity he asked:
+
+"What do you mean by the cannery agreeing to pay the fines?"
+
+Mascola smiled pityingly, exposing a fine set of even teeth.
+
+"You are a stranger here. I forgot. So you do not know that it is
+necessary for fishermen to break the law sometimes to get fish. The
+canneries must have them. They ask no questions. If we can get them
+without breaking the laws it is so much the better. But sometimes when
+you have steam up you want fish very bad. Then you say, Mascola, I must
+have fish. Well, I get them for you. There are always fish to be caught
+in some way or other. They are worth a good deal to you at such a time.
+Why should you not pay for the extra risk we run in getting them?"
+
+It was Gregory's turn to smile.
+
+"Rather ingenious," he commented. "Do you find it necessary to go to
+such extremes often?"
+
+Mascola sensed the sarcasm. A faint flush crept to his dark cheeks. He
+began to suspect that the young man was not taking either him or his
+proposition seriously. Perhaps he had said too much. He answered the
+question with one word.
+
+"No."
+
+Gregory studied Mascola's face and his smile faded. His irritation at
+the Italian's entrance had at first given place to amusement at the
+absurdity of the man's proposal. Now came again the feeling of dislike
+which had assailed him on the occasion of his first meeting with
+Mascola.
+
+"Mascola," he said, "I'll keep your proposition in mind. That is just
+about all I ever will do with it, I guess, though I'll talk it over with
+Blair."
+
+The Italian frowned at the mention of Blair. He had supposed Blair to be
+gone. Had not Rossi reported the departure of the former manager more
+than a month ago? Blair would be a stumbling-block to his scheme. Blair
+knew too much. Mascola realized that he had been too confident. He felt,
+moreover, that he had made a fool of himself. Had not the young man
+smiled? His anger mounted at the recollection. He rose quickly, fighting
+it down.
+
+"All right, Mr. Gregory," he said smoothly. "I make my proposition. I
+come to you this time. You do not accept. It is all right. Next time you
+come to me."
+
+Bowing slightly and smiling to hide his anger, he went out.
+
+Gregory turned again to his work, but found it hard to keep his mind
+from the Italian's veiled threat. It angered him. Mascola had appeared
+so sure of his ground. His irritation grew as his eye fell again on the
+Lang contract. If he only had some one with whom he could talk. Some one
+who knew something about fishing or running a cannery. Some one who
+would understand what he was up against. His father evidently had few if
+any confidants. If he had only left some written word.
+
+From the cannery came the sound of excited voices, a jargon of
+unintelligible words. Gregory sprang to his feet and hurried out. He met
+Mascola coming to meet him. Behind him trooped the alien laborers.
+
+The Italian stopped abruptly and threw out his arm with a dramatic
+gesture. Pointing in the direction of the solitary soldier who stood
+staring with open mouth, he said: "My men, they do not work with scabs,
+Mr. Gregory. You let that man go, or they quit."
+
+"Let them quit."
+
+Gregory spoke quickly and tried to smile. Losing his temper would not
+help matters. That wasn't business.
+
+Mascola spoke rapidly to the men in their own tongue, waving his arms
+and rolling his eyes. Gregory noticed that every one seemed to be
+getting excited. With scowling faces, the alien laborers grouped
+themselves about their leader and glared at the offending soldier and
+his boss.
+
+Gregory checked a quick impulse forcibly to show Mascola the door. It
+was the right of every man to refuse to work if the job was not to his
+liking. There was, however, nothing to get excited over. He turned to
+Mascola.
+
+"Tell your men to come into the office and get their money," he said.
+
+His quiet manner disappointed the Italian boss. He had hoped for a
+scene. An argument at least. His men expected more of him than this.
+Gregory had calmly turned his back upon him and was walking away.
+Mascola could stand no more.
+
+"All right, Gregory," he called. "You go ahead and hire a scab crew.
+Then you'll find out you're the same damn fool as your father."
+
+Gregory whirled. Mascola's hand leaped to his side, burying itself in
+the folds of his shirt. Before he could bring it out, Kenneth Gregory
+was upon him.
+
+His fist caught Mascola full on the chin. The Italian's head snapped
+backward. His feet shot forward. He clutched at the air for support and
+strove to regain his balance. Then he fell to the floor, rolled over
+like a cat, and rebounded to his feet, snarling.
+
+Gregory heard a warning cry from Barnes: "Look out! He's got a knife."
+
+Barnes looked vainly about for a weapon as he ran to his employer's
+assistance.
+
+The laborers pressed closer, their brown hands fingering their belts,
+their faces dark with passion. Hemmed in on every side by the scowling
+aliens, Gregory took a step forward and stood waiting.
+
+Mascola advanced warily with peculiar sideling steps. His face was a
+mottled gray save in one place where his chin was flecked with blood.
+His left arm was extended guard-wise. His right was crooked loosely to
+his side, fingers covered. He crouched low and gathered.
+
+Gregory measured the distance which separated him from the advancing
+Italian. Faintly to his ears came the sound of creaking boards behind
+him. Perhaps Mascola's men were pressing in from the rear. He dared not
+look to see. His eyes were held by Mascola's crooked arm. That was what
+he must grab and break.
+
+Mascola's dark eyes, shining with anger, flashed over Gregory's shoulder
+to the door beyond. Then they widened with surprise. He stopped
+suddenly. His extended arm drooped. For an instant he stood hesitating,
+wavering. He took a step backward. His crooked arm unbent, dropped
+slowly to his side.
+
+His eyes were held by the open door.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+THE WORK OF THEIR FATHERS
+
+
+"Drop it, Mascola."
+
+The sharp command drew the eyes of the laborers to the door and they
+stopped fingering their knives. Shuffling closer together they looked to
+their leader for guidance.
+
+Mascola's eyes darted about the floor, coming to rest upon a big vat
+only a few feet away. For an instant he hesitated. A faint metallic
+click from the doorway caused him to make up his mind. His body
+straightened as his hands traveled upward to the level of his shoulders.
+The palm of his right hand opened and a thin two-edged blade rattled to
+the floor.
+
+Gregory took a step forward and shoved the knife away with his foot.
+Keeping one eye fixed warily upon Mascola, he shot a glance over his
+shoulder to determine the author of the interruption.
+
+He turned to see a trim little figure in loosely-fitting outing clothes
+striding across the floor. Facing the light which streamed in from the
+open door, he could not distinguish the newcomer's face. He only noted
+the ease of the stranger's movements, the poise of the uptilted head and
+the nervous manner with which the Italians fell away before the
+advancing figure.
+
+"What's the trouble?"
+
+Gregory stared. It was a girl. She had turned into the light and was
+facing him. As he formed an answer to her question he saw that her
+sun-bronzed cheeks were flushed with red and her clear brown eyes were
+looking into his inquiringly. In her hand she held an automatic
+revolver.
+
+Gregory strove to make his explanation brief.
+
+"These men refused to work. I told them to go. Mascola and I had some
+trouble. He drew his knife. Then you came."
+
+The girl nodded, dislodging a lock of red-gold hair from under her
+knitted cap. Turning quickly to Mascola, she commanded: "Get out."
+
+Mascola made no sign that he intended to comply with the order. With
+folded arms he looked insolently at the speaker.
+
+"When my men are paid, I will go. But first, I must have my knife."
+
+His eyes roved longingly in the direction of the dagger.
+
+The girl took a quick step backward and covered Mascola's waist-line
+with the automatic.
+
+"You'll go now," she said. Turning to Gregory she added: "Tell him
+you'll pay him down-town."
+
+Gregory picked up the Italian's knife before replying:
+
+"I'll be at the bank at two," he said, making no move to comply with
+Mascola's request for his weapon.
+
+Mascola clenched his hands. His face grew red with passion. For an
+instant he glared from Gregory to the girl. Then the color faded.
+Turning to his men he spoke rapidly to them in their own tongue. The
+workmen retired sullenly and picking up their coats followed their
+leader to the door. Mascola hesitated for a moment on the threshold.
+Then, checking the angry threat which rose to his lips, he went out.
+
+Gregory watched him go in silence. Then he turned to the girl.
+
+"My name is Gregory," he said. "You happened along just about right for
+me."
+
+The tense lines about the girl's mouth disappeared slowly as she passed
+a small brown hand across her forehead and replaced a truant lock.
+
+"I am Dickie Lang," she announced simply. Shoving the automatic into her
+coat pocket, she extended her hand. "I knew your father well. I am glad
+to meet you."
+
+The frankness of the words was strengthened by the look of sincerity in
+the brown eyes as she stood calmly looking him over.
+
+Gregory curbed his surprise with an effort which left him staring at the
+girl in awkward silence. When he had thought of Lang's daughter at all,
+it had been only in the most abstract way. He had regarded her only a
+possible and very probable source of trouble, scarcely as a flesh and
+blood woman at all. Never a girl like this.
+
+He wakened to the fact that he was a very stupid host. Barnes, after
+staring at Dickie Lang for a moment, had retired to his work, leaving
+Gregory alone with his guest in the middle of the receiving floor.
+
+"Won't you come into the office?"
+
+The words came hesitatingly. He nodded in the direction of the
+screen-door.
+
+"Yes. I would like to talk with you."
+
+Again the direct straightforward manner of speaking. Dickie Lang started
+at once for the office, walking across the floor with quick impatient
+steps. Gregory held the door open and as the girl brushed by him, he saw
+her flash a glance to the door of his father's office beyond. He led the
+way in silence to the room where he had been working and waited for his
+visitor to be seated.
+
+Dickie Lang's eyes roved swiftly about the room, taking in the familiar
+details. Nothing had been changed. She could see her father leaning
+against the desk, his great shoulders hunched forward, his big hands
+nervously toying with the glass paper-weight, his blue eyes fixed upon
+the silent figure in the swivel-chair. Again she could hear the voice of
+Richard Gregory:
+
+"All right, Bill. I'll see you through. Go ahead and get the boats."
+
+Dickie realized with a start that the square-jawed, black-eyed young man
+before her was Richard Gregory's son. The past faded away. With simple
+directness she plunged into the object of her visit.
+
+"I've brought the money due on the boats. Got into a squabble with the
+markets and they tied me up for a few days. Otherwise I would have been
+here sooner."
+
+Thrusting her hand into her pocket, she drew out a roll of bills and
+began to count them.
+
+Gregory watched her as she thumbed the bank-notes. The dark brown
+corduroy was simply, if mannishly cut, and in a way it became her. Her
+small feet and rounded ankles would have appeared to better advantage in
+high-heeled shoes and silk stockings than those blunt-nosed boots and
+canvas leggings. And why in the name of common sense would any woman
+with hair like that want to keep it tucked away under a close-fitting
+cap? She would have been beautiful in---- He roused himself from his
+examination of the girl's attire and strove to fix his mind on the
+object of her visit. He reached for the receipt-book as she finished
+counting the money.
+
+"Tenth payment," she exclaimed. "Five hundred. Makes twelve thousand
+even. That right?"
+
+Gregory ran over the money, consulting his notebook to verify the
+figures.
+
+"Right," he answered.
+
+While he wrote the receipt she studied him. So this was the man whom
+Richard Gregory had designated as a red-blooded American. The father's
+praise of his absent son, she was forced to admit, had slightly
+prejudiced her against the young man. No single individual could possess
+all the sterling traits of character attributed to him by the late
+cannery owner. That was impossible. He would fall down somewhere.
+
+Gregory handed the girl her receipt.
+
+"And now," he began, somewhat uncertain as to just how to proceed, "what
+do you intend to do about the boats?"
+
+Dickie Lang paused in the act of folding the paper and looked up
+quickly. For some reason she felt herself irritated by the question. Her
+irritation crept into her voice as she answered:
+
+"I'm going to run them, of course."
+
+Gregory straightened in his chair and faced about.
+
+"You're going to run them?" he repeated. "You don't mean yourself?"
+
+"Sure. What else would I do with them?" she asked coldly.
+
+The man was caught for the moment unawares by the suddenness of the
+question.
+
+"I thought perhaps you would want to sell them," he answered bluntly.
+
+"Why?" Her voice had a belligerent ring and he noticed that her eyes
+were snapping. As he did not immediately reply, she flashed: "I know
+why. It's because I'm a woman. You think I can't make good. Isn't that
+it?"
+
+Gregory felt his cheeks burn at the feeling she threw into her words.
+He hadn't meant to make it quite so plain but if she insisted on the
+truth, why not? Perhaps it was the best way.
+
+"You've guessed it," he answered slowly. "You may call it prejudice if
+you like, but that is just the way I feel."
+
+Tapping the floor angrily with her foot, she interrupted:
+
+"It's worse than prejudice. It's just plain damn-foolishness. Honestly,
+after all I've heard of you, I gave you credit for having more sense.
+Your father wouldn't have said that. He believed there wasn't a thing in
+the world a man or woman couldn't do, if they tried hard enough. And he
+gave them the chance to make good. But I'll tell you right now, you've
+got a lot to learn before you'll be able to wear his hat."
+
+Gregory sank deeper into his chair as Dickie Lang proceeded with his
+arraignment. Nothing could be said until she was through. His silence
+gave the girl a free rein to express her feelings.
+
+"You think I don't know my game because I'm a woman. Why, I've been on
+the sea since I was a kid. If my father hadn't made me go to school, I
+would have lived with him on the water. And don't you suppose in fishing
+with a man like Bill Lang, a person learns something? Doesn't that more
+than make up for the handicap of being a woman?"
+
+The young man waited for a chance to put in a word but none came.
+Becoming angrier each minute, she hurried on:
+
+"There isn't a man in Legonia but you who would have said that. Not even
+Mascola. He hates me only because I do know my business. And you, a
+stranger, come down here and tell me----"
+
+"I didn't say you didn't know your business," Gregory interjected as she
+drew a long breath.
+
+"No, but you thought it just the same. And what right have you to think
+things like that? What do you know about things here? You never saw the
+place until just a few weeks ago. And you've been gone ever since. I'll
+bet you were never in a fish cannery before in your life. I'll bet right
+now you don't know what you're going to do next. You're waiting for
+Blair to get well and tell you. Suppose he doesn't. He's a mighty sick
+man and it's a cinch if he does come back it won't be for a long time.
+What are you going to do in the meantime besides tell me I don't----"
+
+Gregory held up his hand to check a further outburst.
+
+"Listen," he said. "There is no use going on like this. Our fathers were
+the best of friends. Why can't we be the same? I'm willing to admit
+there is a lot of truth in what you say about my not knowing just what
+I'm going to do right now. I didn't select the position I'm in, but I'm
+going to make the best of things as they are and finish up the work
+which was begun by my father. And I want to say right now that I'm going
+to finish it.
+
+"In a way," he went on slowly, "our positions are somewhat similar. We
+each have a job to finish. I didn't think yours meant as much to you as
+mine does to me, though of course I might have, if I hadn't been
+thinking so much of myself. Our fathers worked together and got along
+fine. It may be that we can do the same thing."
+
+The fire died slowly from the girl's eyes. In its place there came an
+expression, more wistful perhaps than anything else. When she spoke
+again the irritation was gone from her voice.
+
+"No," she answered. "There isn't any reason why we can't be friends. And
+there are a lot of reasons why we should be. I'm willing to do my part
+and I'll show you, Mr. Gregory, that I do know my business. It always
+makes me mad when any one thinks I don't know the sea. When dad wanted
+to tease me he always called me a 'land-lubber.' And even when a kid I
+would always fight at that."
+
+She paused a moment. Then went on:
+
+"I'd like to do what I can for you for two reasons. Your father did a
+lot for mine. He was one of my few friends. I'd like to give his son a
+hand if it would help. In the second place, it is to my interest in a
+business way to see your cannery succeed. It is a market for my fish. I
+won't sell to the Golden Rule and the dealers won't pay the express on
+canning fish. The sooner you start up the better it will be for me. I
+can tell you right now you have a lot to do."
+
+Again she paused and looked down at her feet. When she spoke again it
+was with some hesitation.
+
+"If I were you I'd get hold of Jack McCoy. He can do more for you than
+any one else. I wouldn't count too much on Blair. I heard from him this
+morning and they didn't hold out much hope. He's completely run down and
+that's the kind pneumonia hits hard."
+
+Gregory nodded.
+
+"I know," he said. Then he asked: "McCoy was the foreman, wasn't he?"
+
+"Yes. He's still in town. Blair gave him a letter of recommendation but
+Jack won't look for another job until he knows what Blair is going to
+do. He says Blair taught him all he knows and he's going to stick to him
+because he always treated him white."
+
+Gregory wrote McCoy's address which the girl supplied and she continued:
+
+"One of the first things to be done, of course, will be to go all over
+the machinery. That won't take long. Then the supplies and material will
+have to be checked over and the new stuff ordered. That will take a week
+for two men."
+
+Gregory looked at the girl with more respect. Apparently she knew
+something of his business as well as her own. Doubtless her association
+with her father had brought her into close touch with the cannery. As
+she went on, Dickie Lang divulged the source of her information.
+
+"Jack and I have talked you over a lot," she said soberly. "We are both
+anxious to see you get going."
+
+While she talked on concerning the re-opening of the cannery, Gregory
+wondered to what extent her opinion of McCoy's ability was based by
+personal prejudice. Of course it was nothing to him what Dickie Lang
+thought of McCoy or of himself either, for that matter. He decided to
+look McCoy up at once.
+
+"Then you have to get your labor," she went on. "And that isn't as easy,
+I have found, as it seems. You see Mascola has the bulge on the labor
+situation around here. He has the riff-raff of the world on his
+pay-roll. They speak in a dozen different languages. Everything
+almost--but English. They are practically all aliens and there is
+nothing they won't do to keep a decent man out. Blair had hard work to
+get a crew, I know, and harder work to keep it. He was always hiring and
+firing. Things would go all right for a while. Then there would come a
+row with Mascola's outfit and a lot of the boys would get disgusted and
+leave."
+
+Gregory interrupted:
+
+"I understand from my father's attorney, that one of the biggest things
+he had to contend with was the matter of getting fish."
+
+"I'm coming to that in a minute. Let's finish up the labor question
+while we're on it. You've got to get a certain number of skilled men who
+can handle the machines. With a few others who have worked in a fish
+cannery you can go ahead, for the biggest percentage of your labor is
+unskilled anyway and has to be broken in. Men like that are the hardest
+to get," she concluded, "they are mostly tramps. Here to-day and gone
+to-morrow. You can't depend on them. If you can get a bunch to stick,
+you're mighty lucky."
+
+She paused and moved her chair nearer. Then she broached the important
+subject.
+
+"About the fish, you can do one of three things. Or rather two things,"
+she corrected, "for I hardly think you'll tie up with Mascola. You can
+fix up your own boats, try to man them and get your own fish. You have
+twenty-five boats. That's not enough even if they were all in good
+shape, which they're not."
+
+"What do you mean by trying to man my boats?"
+
+The girl smiled.
+
+"Just what I say," she answered. "Fishermen are scarce. My father was in
+business here for twenty years and most of the time he was running
+short-handed. You can get plenty of men to ride on your boats but they
+are not fishermen."
+
+Noting the direction in which the conversation was drifting, Gregory
+resolved to hasten the climax.
+
+"Do you think you could furnish me with enough fish?" he asked bluntly.
+
+"I don't think anything about it. I know I could."
+
+"How do you know it?"
+
+She hesitated as she cast about in her active brain for a tangible
+argument to convince the obstinate, square-jawed man before her. Of
+course she could get him the fish. But how could she make him believe
+it?
+
+"My fishermen know the coast for one thing," she began. "That's a whole
+lot around here. It's a treacherous shore-line and a man who doesn't
+know it can lose a boat mighty easy. Then, I have ten new boats, just
+the kind you have to have for albacore and tuna. As a general rule
+you've got to go way out to sea to get them. Sometimes as far as Diablo.
+And that means trouble. If you've ever been out to that God-forsaken
+island you'll understand that it takes real men and boats. I have both."
+
+Gregory said nothing, but waited for the girl to finish:
+
+"I know my game," she concluded, with no spirit of bravado, but merely
+as if it was only a plain statement of fact. "My men are used to holding
+their own against Mascola. And I can tell you that is worth a lot."
+
+Gregory nodded. Then he said quietly:
+
+"Your father was never able to supply mine with enough fish to keep this
+cannery going. Isn't that right?"
+
+Dickie Lang was forced to admit the truth of the statement. Then she
+qualified: "He hadn't had the big boats but a few months and they had a
+run of bad luck from the start."
+
+Gregory considered her words carefully.
+
+"Would you be willing to enter into a contract with me to keep the
+cannery supplied with fish?" he asked, watching her closely. For the
+first time he saw her show signs of receding from her original position.
+
+Dickie Lang hesitated. Her fear of legal entanglements was hereditary.
+Bill Lang had settled his differences out of court and had warned his
+daughter on more than one occasion of the dangers which lurked in a
+contract. She shook her head. What did she know of this man, save the
+fact that he bore his father's name?
+
+"No," she answered, feeling, however, that she had weakened her previous
+statement by refusing to make it legally binding.
+
+"Why not?"
+
+The girl realized that their positions were becoming reversed. It was
+she now who was on the defensive.
+
+"Because," she answered slowly, "I wouldn't." Ashamed that she had given
+the proverbial reason for feminine change of mind, she added quickly:
+"You see you may be all right. And then again you may not. I'd like a
+chance to size you up first."
+
+Gregory smiled. "That was what I thought about you at the beginning of
+our talk," he said. His face became instantly serious. "We'll just have
+to size each other up before we can actually get down to cases. Isn't
+that the truth?"
+
+She nodded. "Yes. You think I can't make good."
+
+"And you just don't know about me," Gregory finished for her. Then he
+added: "How are we going to find out about each other?"
+
+Dickie regarded him gravely.
+
+"The ocean is the best test for a man or a woman that I know. It doesn't
+play any favorites. When a girl goes out there all 'dolled-up' it washes
+off the paint and powder and shows her up for just what she is. And it
+shows a man up too. It's always waiting for him to make some mistake.
+When he does, he has to think and act at the same time. He can't hedge
+or make excuses. He's got to pay or play. A quitter has no chance with
+the sea."
+
+Observing him closely, she concluded: "I could tell more about you on
+the sea in a minute than I could find out in here in a month."
+
+"And I could find out whether or not I thought you knew your business."
+
+They laughed together.
+
+"I'll be ready any time."
+
+Dickie was on her feet at his words.
+
+"To-morrow morning then, at four o'clock. Meet me at our dock and I'll
+show you I know what I'm talking about."
+
+Gregory promised and the girl hurried out.
+
+For some time the young cannery owner scratched busily at the pad of
+paper before him, jotting down the substance of his interview with
+Dickie Lang. Passing through the cannery he came upon the solitary
+remnant of his floor force whom he had forgotten for the time being.
+
+"I'm going down-town for a few minutes, Barnes. If anybody asks for me,
+tell them I'll be back in half an hour."
+
+The ex-soldier's eyes brightened at the sight of his employer.
+
+"Say, Mr. Gregory, you took me on quick and stayed by me, and I don't
+want you to think I don't appreciate it, for I do. Now that you've
+canned the other gang, I wonder if there'd be any chance for a couple of
+my pals. We've been drifting around together and their shoes is worn out
+same as mine."
+
+"What can they do?"
+
+"One of them's a chauffeur. He ain't afraid of nothin'. And he can drive
+anything on wheels. The other one's a steam-fitter by trade, but he'll
+be glad to nurse a broom or anything else right now."
+
+Gregory was on the point of telling Barnes to wait until he had
+conferred with McCoy when he noticed the peculiar manner with which his
+employee held his broom.
+
+"What's the matter with your arm?" he asked quietly.
+
+Barnes tapped the member in question and regarded him somewhat
+doubtfully.
+
+"Nothin'," he said.
+
+Gregory stepped nearer and examined the shoulder carefully.
+
+"Why didn't you tell me your arm had been hurt?" he asked in a low
+voice.
+
+Barnes met his eyes squarely.
+
+"Because I was afraid it would queer me for a job," he said. "You see,
+Gregory, when a man hires a fellow he figures he's all there. He kind of
+rents him all over and when he's shy on somethin', he kind of figures
+the fellow's holding back on him. I didn't want to slip anything over on
+you. Because you were white to me from the start. But I was afraid when
+you saw my pin was faked you might change your mind."
+
+Gregory's eyes were fixed intently on the soldier as he went on:
+
+"You see I got my insurance. But that ain't enough. My old man died
+while I was away. And my mother ain't any too well. So I just lets her
+have the money. But that ain't all there is to it. You see when a
+fellow's worked and hit the ball, he don't want to lay round and loaf."
+
+Still Gregory said nothing, and Barnes, misconstruing his silence,
+continued:
+
+"It's wonderful what a fellow can do with what the doctors leave him
+when they get through cuttin'. You ought to go up to Port Angeles and
+see what the Bureau's teaching the poor blind devils. It kind of seems
+like their eyes goes into their arms and legs, for they can do more with
+them now than they ever thought of doing before they lost their lamps."
+
+He extended his good arm and flexed the muscles until they stood out
+like lumps of whip-cord. "Look at that," he exclaimed. "They's twice the
+pep in that one since they hacked up the other one. You don't need to be
+afraid of me not doing a day's work. I----"
+
+"Are there many of the boys out of work?" Gregory found his voice at
+last.
+
+Barnes nodded.
+
+"Scads of 'em. Some of them went back to their old jobs. Some of them
+found 'em gone and they was others that couldn't cut it like they used
+to. The government's tryin' to land 'em all jobs. But it's slow."
+
+Gregory turned slowly about and retraced his steps in the direction of
+the office. Then he remembered Barnes's request.
+
+"You can tell your friends to come along," he said.
+
+Barnes ran after him.
+
+"Say," he exclaimed, "I forgot to tell you. One of 'em's leg's a little
+stiff and the other one's shy an eye."
+
+Gregory whirled about.
+
+"They've got brains and hearts left, haven't they?" he challenged. "Tell
+them to come along."
+
+Walking rapidly to the office he entered and closed the door. When
+Barnes came in at quitting time the room was thick with smoke. In the
+center of the smoke-screen Gregory sat at a small table, hammering away
+at a typewriter. On a near-by chair, the ex-soldier caught a glimpse of
+a colored poster, glaringly captioned:
+
+                           JOBS FOR SOLDIERS
+
+Shutting the door softly behind him he withdrew, smiling to himself.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+THE WAY OF THE GULL
+
+
+Br-r-r-r-r-r-r-r.
+
+The alarm-clock announced the hour imperiously, triumphantly, the
+importance of the day being manifest in its resonant warning.
+
+Kenneth Gregory leaped from his bed and hastily donned a brand-new suit
+of overalls. A young man's first business engagement was not lightly to
+be passed over. Particularly when it promised a chance for excitement
+and new adventure. He dressed quickly and hurried out into the street.
+With difficulty he stumbled through the dark streets and groped his way
+along the water-front to the Lang wharf. All about him was darkness,
+opaque and impenetrable.
+
+"You're early."
+
+Gregory found himself blinking into the white light of an electric
+torch. By his side stood Dickie Lang.
+
+"Yes," he answered. "Wasn't sure whether my clock was right so I set it
+half an hour ahead."
+
+Still holding him in the rays of the light, the girl examined him
+critically.
+
+"All right but your shoes," she announced. "You'll break your neck in
+those leather soles. I'll see if I can rustle a pair of tennis-shoes."
+
+She vanished suddenly and a moment later he saw her light fall upon the
+burly figures of three bare-footed fishermen shuffling along the dock.
+She greeted the men familiarly.
+
+"Got that coil for you, Tom. Cache it this time where those thieving
+devils won't beat you to it. Coils are hard to get right now. Bill,
+you'd better run down Lucas way and scout around for barracuda. They
+were beginning to hit in there strong this time last year. How's the
+baby? I phoned to town last night for that medicine I told you about.
+They said they'd shoot it out on the first mail."
+
+As she spoke Gregory saw other shadows draw near and hover for a moment
+in the circle of light. From the hillside above the town lights gleamed
+from the windows of the fishing colony, the intervening spaces of
+darkness narrowing second by second until the village stood out like a
+great checker-board of lights and shadows. Against the background of
+lights he could see the slender figure of the girl passing among the
+huge fishermen who towered like giants above her. Radiating energy
+wherever she went, criticizing some, commending others and joking away
+the early-morning grouch, she directed the movements of the constantly
+increasing stream of men who thronged the dock and despatched the boats
+one by one into the darkness.
+
+When she returned to Gregory's side for a moment she held in her hand a
+tattered pair of rubber-soled shoes. "They're better than nothing," she
+explained. "When you are a full-fledged fisherman you won't need shoes.
+You'll get so you can use your toes like fingers and----"
+
+The rays of her flash-light, which swept the wharf as she spoke,
+suddenly brought into view the figure of a man lunging unsteadily along
+the dock. Leaving her sentence unfinished, she was by his side in an
+instant.
+
+"Nothing doing, Jack. Go home and go to bed. I know all about your
+wife's sick aunt. No time to listen now. If you're sober by afternoon
+you can go out with the boys drifting."
+
+The fisherman started to expostulate but she had already left him.
+Mumbling that she didn't know what sickness was, he stumbled obediently
+away in the direction of the shore.
+
+"He's been drunk since Tuesday," she announced as she rejoined Gregory.
+"Too bad, too. Best man I've got in shallow water. You ought to see him
+handle a dory in the surf."
+
+Again the light picked out a newcomer who stood hesitating a few feet
+away. "What's the trouble, Pete? Why aren't you on the job?"
+
+"I've got to have more money." The words were spoken boldly and in a
+tone which drew the attention of all about. A number of fishermen
+shuffled nearer the speaker and ranged themselves beyond the circle of
+light within easy hearing distance.
+
+"You want more money," Dickie Lang repeated slowly. "Well about the only
+reason I could ever think of for paying you any more would be for your
+nerve in asking for it. Why, I've lost more through your carelessness
+since you've been on the job than I could make on you in six months. The
+first shot out of the box you let a piece of barracuda-webbing go adrift
+and Mascola's gang picked it up right before your eyes and you never
+cheeped. Then you put one of my motors on the blink because you were too
+lazy to watch the oil-feed. Where do you think I get off? How long could
+I run this outfit if all my men were like you? Take a brace and come
+alive, Pete. That's the way to get more money out of me or any one else.
+The harder you hit the ball the more you'll get. I don't want to hog it
+all. The boys will tell you I shoot square."
+
+The fisherman slunk sullenly away and joined his companions. Dickie Lang
+turned again to Gregory.
+
+"That's one of the things I'm up against," she exclaimed in a low voice.
+"That fellow is a regular agitator. Talking is his long suit. Why, he
+didn't even know how to throw a bowline when he hit in here, flat broke
+and down on his uppers. I've taught him all he knows. And now he's
+trying to start something. If men weren't so scarce I'd can him in a
+minute."
+
+Gregory watched the fleet embark, marveling at the manner in which the
+burly fishermen took orders from a mere slip of a girl. How it must go
+against their grain, he thought, to be bossed about by a woman. The
+last of the boats had cleared before the youthful commodore prepared to
+follow.
+
+"Let's go," she exclaimed impatiently. "We're late now. Mascola's outfit
+cleared two hours ago."
+
+Leading the way she took Gregory aboard a small fishing vessel which
+waited at the float below. The motor started the instant their feet
+touched the deck and a gruff voice growled:
+
+"We've got to go some to make the point by daybreak."
+
+The girl nodded to the dark form at the wheel.
+
+"You said it, Tom. Mascola's gang are mighty near down there by now."
+
+She cast off the lines and jumped again to the boat as the little craft
+backed from the slip and headed down the bay. While the boat gained
+headway under the rapid pulse of the powerful motor, she explained:
+
+"Got a string of nets off Long Point. Just put them out yesterday. But
+I've a pretty good idea we'll load up. That is unless Mascola tries to
+sew us up. One of his fishing captains was cruising round last night
+when I left the set."
+
+"But if you had your nets out first," Gregory began.
+
+A low laugh from the girl interrupted him. "You don't know how Mascola
+does business," she said. "Listen, I'll tell you. Did you ever notice
+them throw garbage overboard from the deck of a steamer and see one lone
+gull flying in her wake? The minute he squawks and swoops down to pick
+it up there's a hundred of them come from all points of the compass to
+fight it out with him for the spoils. Well, Mascola's men are just like
+that. We may spot the fish first. We generally do. But that doesn't make
+the slightest bit of difference to Mascola. It only saves him the
+trouble. When our nets are out and he sees we're getting a good haul, he
+lays around us and cuts us off. Do you get the idea?"
+
+Gregory nodded vaguely.
+
+"But can't you do something?" he asked. "I should think----"
+
+Again the girl laughed. "You bet I can do something," she snapped. "You
+just watch me. That's what I brought you out here for this morning. If
+those devils try to lay around me, I'll show them a thing or two. I wish
+we had an earlier start though," she concluded. "They've got the best of
+it by a couple of hours."
+
+Through the darkness they raced to the open sea. The cool morning breeze
+blew briskly in their faces and Gregory noticed they were overhauling a
+few of the stragglers.
+
+"It oughtn't to take you long to catch up with them at this clip," he
+said admiringly. "Are all of your boats as fast as this one?"
+
+"If they were it would break me up," the girl answered. "The _Petrel's_
+my flag ship. She's a gas-hog, but she can travel. She has fifty horse,
+and built on the lines she is, there aren't many of them around here
+that can make her run in their wake. Only two in fact," she added.
+"Mascola's speed-boat and Rossi's fleet-tender."
+
+"Who is Rossi?"
+
+"Mascola's fishing captain. Next to his boss and old Rock, one of the
+biggest crooks in town. He knows his business though," she supplemented
+half-admiringly, "and is a good man for Mascola."
+
+"Who's Rock?" asked Gregory.
+
+The girl faced about suddenly.
+
+"Rock's the big man of a little town. He's in everything. The further
+you go without meeting with him the better off you'll be. He's president
+of the bank, the Rock Commercial Company and several other concerns. He
+owns the controlling interest in the Golden Rule Cannery besides. He has
+a finger in everything. He's a mighty busy man. But he's never too busy
+to meddle with other people's business. At least he tried to in mine."
+
+Her teeth snapped in a vicious click.
+
+A number of questions crowded to Gregory's mind, as they crossed the
+jettied inlet and headed down the coast. He asked them in rapid-fire
+order.
+
+"How many boats have you?"
+
+"Twenty-five. Using sixteen to-day."
+
+"Why don't you run them all?"
+
+"Can't get the men. That is, good ones. I'm hiring and firing all the
+time. Paying thirty-eight now and that leaves me short-handed even with
+the boats I'm working."
+
+"How many boats has Mascola?"
+
+The girl was silent for a moment. Then she answered:
+
+"Can't say. Somewhere about fifty, maybe more. It's hard to check him
+up. His boats cruise a long way out and some of them don't put in to
+Legonia at all."
+
+"What kind of fish are you catching now?"
+
+"Halibut mostly, some barracuda. Haven't tried for sardines or albacore
+since your cannery shut down."
+
+The _Petrel_ rolled lazily in the trough of the swell as she sped down
+the coast. Suddenly the darkness ahead was blurred by an indistinct
+shape and the man at the wheel put the vessel over sharply. As he did so
+he narrowly escaped a collision with an unlighted boat which loomed
+directly across their bow.
+
+"Trawler fishing within the three-mile limit without lights," the girl
+explained to her passenger.
+
+Gregory remembered Dickie Lang's words concerning alien interference. He
+knew that running without lights was illegal. Why was the law not
+enforced?
+
+In answer to his question, the girl burst out: "You just wait. I
+couldn't take the time now to tell you of all the laws Mascola breaks
+and if I did you wouldn't believe me."
+
+"How can he get by with it?" Gregory asked.
+
+Dickie Lang walked to the rail and searched the dark water in the
+direction of the shore before she replied: "There are three different
+kinds of laws out here. The navigation laws are made by the government,
+the fishing laws by the state, and the law of the sea is made by the
+fishermen. If you break the pilot-rules they'll haul you up before the
+local inspector at Port Angeles and fine you, take away your license or
+put you in jail. But they've got to have the proof and that is hard to
+get. If you break the state's laws you run up against the fish
+commissioner. His deputies do their best to protect the fish and see
+that the fishermen use the right kind of gear. If they catch an outfit
+with the goods, they put them over. But it's hard to do."
+
+She stared away into the faintly graying darkness.
+
+"Cut through the kelp, Tom. It will save us a little and we're going to
+need it."
+
+"And the fisherman's law you spoke about. What is that?" Gregory
+queried.
+
+She faced him suddenly. "I don't know how to explain it," she said.
+"Every one has to learn it for himself. It's the law of the biggest and
+fastest boat. The law of the longest and strongest arm. The law of sand
+and a quick trigger."
+
+Gregory felt his pulse quicken as she went on:
+
+"You see we have to depend on ourselves out here to settle our troubles.
+Whatever happens, happens quick. Generally there are not many witnesses.
+If you knew trouble was coming, you might get a deputy to come out, but
+the chances are ten to one they wouldn't. They would say it was only a
+fisherman's row and tell you to swear out a warrant. And if you go to
+law, Mascola will bring five witnesses for each of yours and they'll
+outswear you every time for they can lie faster than a man can write it
+down."
+
+Again she paused and searched the gray border of the receding curtain of
+night. Far away Gregory could hear the roar of the breakers. From out
+the gray dusk ahead appeared the shadowy outline of a rugged promontory
+jutting far out into the sea.
+
+"Keep close in, Tom. Our last string's dead ahead, off Peeble Beach.
+When you get around the point swing on the outside of Coward Rocks and
+give her all she'll stand."
+
+She walked slowly about the deck with her eyes fixed on the wave-washed
+shore-line.
+
+"So you see each outfit makes its own laws and it's up to them to
+enforce them. Our law is to mind our own business and get the fish. The
+only law we break is Mascola's. He tries to tell us where to fish. He
+bullies the ones he can and fights the ones he can't in any way that is
+easiest and safest. He's a thief and a crook and he'd commit murder in a
+minute if he thought he could get by with it."
+
+The idea lodged in her brain. She leaned closer and exclaimed in a low
+voice: "And how do we know he doesn't get by with murder the way he does
+with everything else? There's many a man picked up along the coast as a
+'floater' that nobody knows how he drowned."
+
+Daybreak was upon them as they hugged the shore-line and slipped into
+the protecting shadow of Long Point. Dickie Lang's words sank deep into
+Gregory's consciousness. A half-formed question found its way at last
+to his lips.
+
+"Do you think," he began, but was interrupted by the man at the wheel.
+
+"Can't make the inside channel. Have to go round."
+
+He altered the helm as he spoke. Dickie Lang jumped to his side.
+
+"We've got to run the short-cut, Tom. No use going round. They'd spot us
+a mile away in this light. If they're laying round my nets I want to
+surprise them. I'll take the boat."
+
+The fisherman surrendered the wheel and sidled out of the way.
+
+"She's your boat," he said with blunt emphasis. "But don't forget it's
+my license. I wouldn't take the chance."
+
+The girl nodded. "My license is hanging up in the engine-room," she
+retorted. "If anything happens, it's me that is responsible. I won't
+forget."
+
+She spun the wheel over as she spoke and the _Petrel_ swerved like a
+gull and headed straight for the rugged cliff which towered high above
+the foaming water, bold and defiant of the angry waves which dashed
+relentlessly at its base.
+
+Off the port bow Gregory saw a narrow pathway of quiet water fringed on
+one side by white-toothed swells, on the other by the barnacled feet of
+the point itself. He leaned over the rail and followed the course of the
+ribbon-like path which wound like a snake among the curling waves and
+jagged rocks. Could that be the channel the girl meant to take?
+
+Dickie Lang's eyes were fixed with his upon the devious waterway. The
+hand which held the wheel was steady and the _Petrel_ plunged boldly on
+as if bent upon flinging its fragile shell upon the time-defying rocks
+of Long Point.
+
+Gregory measured the distance to the overhanging ledge. What was the use
+of taking such a chance as this? It looked like one in a million. In
+another minute they would pile up. They were almost abreast of the
+thread-like channel when he saw the fingers on the wheel tighten. The
+steering gear whirred and the _Petrel_ leaped forward to answer the
+master-hand at the helm.
+
+Then came the miracle.
+
+The slim bow of the little craft swung about. For a second she wallowed
+in the trough of the ground-swell, rose high on its foaming crest and
+nestled slowly down in the quiet water of the rock-bound channel. And
+the distance to safety had been gained by the scant margin of only a few
+inches. A sharper or blunter turn would have ripped the vessel from bow
+to stern. Was it luck? He shook his head slowly. Then he began to
+understand why the fishermen took orders from Dickie Lang. He was
+recalled to himself by a laughing voice and he saw that the girl's eyes
+were sparkling, as she said without turning her head:
+
+"Did you think you were going to have to swim ashore?"
+
+Gregory laughed. "I could feel the water about my ears," he said. Then
+he added: "Do you do stunts like that often?"
+
+She shook her head. "Sometimes it is necessary to take a chance," she
+answered. "You've got to catch Mascola's bunch red-handed. When we round
+the 'bull-nose' we'll be right on top of our nets."
+
+Her lips were firmly compressed and the little lines which suddenly
+appeared about her mouth were hard. With her eyes still held by the
+barnacled rocks, she snapped: "Then you may see something."
+
+They were nearing the end of Long Point. Throttling the throbbing motor
+until its soft breathing could be heard only a few boat-lengths, she
+nodded to the fisherman:
+
+"All right, Tom. She's yours. Plenty of water from here on. When you
+round 'bull-nose' head for the cove with all you've got."
+
+Relieved from the wheel she dodged into the engine-room and returned
+with two rifles. Flashing a glance shoreward to determine the _Petrel's_
+position she rejoined Gregory and handed him one of the guns. Gregory
+reached eagerly for the weapon. For the past hour he had been forced to
+sit by a spectator. Now was a chance to do something. To play a game he
+knew. His fingers caressed the stock of the Winchester as the girl
+exclaimed:
+
+"Don't suppose there is any use telling you how to shoot. Only at sea
+things are a little different. You have to count on the roll. Sight full
+until you get on the range. Distances are deceiving on the water. Pull
+on the slow rise if you can. That's when she's steadiest."
+
+He noted her quiet manner of speaking and the businesslike way with
+which she handled her gun. What she meant for him to do he did not
+clearly understand. Whatever it was, she would find him ready. He
+slipped a shell into the barrel from the magazine, and waited. He
+noticed that the girl was watching him closely as they came to the end
+of the winding channel. Then she gave him brief instructions.
+
+"When we pass that big rock ahead we'll head in. Then you will see a
+string of nets. You may see two strings, one laid around the other. If
+any of Mascola's gang are hanging around I'm going to try to persuade
+them to give me sea-way."
+
+She set her lips grimly and tapped the rifle. Drawing a pair of
+binocular-glasses from her pocket she focused them carefully.
+
+"Don't shoot until I do. If they are trying to lay around I'll open up
+on them and start them moving. Aim at the water-line and pump away as
+fast as you like. All right, Tom. Give her the gun."
+
+The _Petrel_ leaped under the advancing throttle and raced for the
+curiously fashioned nub at the cliff's end.
+
+Gregory crowded forward, striving to catch a glimpse of the water
+beyond. As they flashed by the "bull-nose" she saw silhouetted against
+the brightening light which streamed across the water from the beach,
+the sharp outline of a fishing-boat. Then he heard a low exclamation
+from the girl.
+
+"He's laid around my string," she gritted, and again the glasses flashed
+to her eyes. She whirled on the fisherman. "Look at that, Tom! He's
+stripping my nets. I've got him with the goods this time and, so help me
+God, I'm going to make him pay. Don't shoot," she cautioned Gregory.
+"Wait till we get closer. I want to get him with the deadwood. Wide
+open, Tom, we'll run him off his legs. I'll----"
+
+A puff of white smoke drifted upward from the deck of the launch ahead
+and floated lazily above the rigging. Some fifty feet beyond the port
+bow of the _Petrel_ the water leaped upward in a tiny spout. Dickie's
+rifle sounded in Gregory's ear and the report of his own prolonged the
+echoes. As he pumped in another cartridge he noted that the girl's eyes
+were shining and her red lips were parted in a smile. Between shots he
+heard her mutter:
+
+"Can you beat that? The dirty robbers are going to stay and fight?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+THE LAW OF THE FISHERMEN
+
+
+Her decks spouting flame, the _Petrel_ raced on to meet the enemy.
+Gregory crowded close to the rail and dropped to his knee. The girl was
+right about the roll. He shoved the rifle through a cross-stay, sighted
+carefully and pulled the trigger.
+
+"I have the system now," he called.
+
+She nodded. "That's the stuff. Aim for the engine-house. They're
+shooting from the ports."
+
+[Illustration: "Aim for the engine-house!"]
+
+The bullets from the alien craft were flying wide. The fusillade from
+the _Petrel_ was evidently interfering with the enemy's marksmanship.
+
+"No expert riflemen there," Gregory commented.
+
+Dickie shook her head. "A knife's their long suit," she answered. "I
+never saw them shoot much before. Don't believe they----"
+
+A jingle of breaking glass interrupted her and the starboard side-lamp
+toppled from the bracket and crashed to the deck.
+
+"Get down," Gregory commanded. "They're getting the range."
+
+The girl smiled and wiped away the blood which spurted from a small cut
+in her cheek. "Just fool luck," she answered, leaning coolly against
+the stays and reloading her rifle. "That was only an accident."
+
+Gregory was by her side in an instant. Grasping her roughly by the arm
+he said harshly: "Get down, I tell you."
+
+She jerked away her arm and started to speak. Then she dropped to the
+deck.
+
+"Maybe you're right at that," she admitted, a smile playing about her
+lips.
+
+The firing became brisker as the distance lessened between the two
+boats, while the enemy bullets became wilder and more desultory. Dickie
+ceased firing and turned to the man at the wheel.
+
+"It's Rossi with the _Roma_. He's getting under way."
+
+She flung out an arm pointing in the direction of the stubby-nosed point
+which lay across the little bay. "Head for the arch, Tom. We'll cut him
+off." Pointing to the fleeing boat she explained to Gregory: "He's
+almost in shoal water right now. To get out he's got to follow the
+channel. It's dead low tide and he'll have to make a big bend to get
+out. We'll cut across and head him off. He has the speed of us and a
+quarter of a mile lead. But he has farther to go. If he opens up he's
+liable to pile up on the rocks. It's about an even bet he'll make it for
+he's clever. But if he does we'll be right on top of him when he comes
+out. Then I'll teach him a lesson he won't forget in a hurry."
+
+The _Petrel_ altered her course while she was speaking and sped off at
+a tangent. The _Roma_, dashing shoreward, turned and angled sharply,
+running parallel to her pursuer.
+
+"He's sure pounding her," the girl observed as she noted the increasing
+distance which separated the two boats. "If he holds that clip when he
+comes to that figure S channel, he'll never make the turns." She shut
+her jaw tighter. "Cut in a little closer, Tom," she ordered. "We'll make
+him take all the chances there are."
+
+Gregory climbed to the top of the engine-house and watched the _Roma_
+dodging among the rocks like a frightened rabbit. Dickie Lang was poised
+in the bow like a figurehead, one foot resting on the rail. Her hair,
+jerked from her cap by the fingers of the dawn-wind, streamed out behind
+her in a shower of dull red gold. Her eyes were shining with the joy of
+the chase.
+
+"He's almost at the turn," she called back. "He'll never make it on an
+outgoing tide. He's got to slow up. If he does, we've got him. If he
+doesn't----"
+
+She was interrupted by a muffled exclamation from the man at the wheel.
+The _Roma's_ bow was rising from the water. For an instant she planed
+like a high-powered racing-boat. Then, as if exhausted by the chase, she
+settled slowly to rest in the white water, her masts angling sharply
+toward the beach.
+
+"High and dry on mussel rocks," Dickie Lang announced. "It's a flood
+tide to-day and with the big ground swell she hasn't a chance."
+
+As they neared the wreck they saw the crew of the stranded vessel
+huddled together on the sloping deck.
+
+"Don't go in any closer, Tom," cautioned the girl. "The tide's turning.
+They can wade ashore and watch her break up."
+
+As they circled closer to make the turn, Gregory noticed a red-shirted
+giant leap from the wreck of the fishing-boat into the shallow water,
+waving his arms wildly about his head. But the noise of the _Petrel's_
+motor drowned the voice of the infuriated fishing captain and his
+threats and curses were heard only by his own crew.
+
+"It isn't Rossi, after all," Dickie observed as she caught sight of the
+red-shirted figure. "It's Boris, the crazy Russian. I never knew Mascola
+to trust him with a boat like the _Roma_ before."
+
+The _Petrel_ turned about and, burying her nose in the big swells, made
+haste to leave the dangerous water.
+
+"Head for the nets," the girl ordered. "I'm not through with Mascola
+yet. He has my fish on the _Roma_. If I had a dory I'd go in there and
+get them. But it isn't good enough to risk the _Petrel_."
+
+As they came nearer the two strings of nets, Dickie explained: "I'm
+going to work the same game on Mascola that the fish commissioner does
+when he catches them trawling within the three-mile limit. I'm going to
+salvage his nets and make him pay for his crooked work to get his
+property. Lay to, Tom, and we'll pull them aboard with mine."
+
+The fisherman drew alongside the row of bobbing corks with a grim smile
+playing about his lips.
+
+"Have to rustle," he observed. "You know how Mascola's boats follow up."
+
+The girl tossed her head.
+
+"I don't care if his whole fleet comes along. And him with them. I'm
+going to make him pay me for those fish Boris stole from my nets. I
+can't take it into court but----"
+
+She paused in the middle of her sentence as her eyes swept the sea.
+Focusing the binoculars on a small speck on the horizon, she announced:
+"Here comes Mascola now in his speed-boat. We'll haul them aboard, boys.
+Then I'll talk business with the dago. Get his nets first."
+
+Falling to eagerly, Gregory received his first lesson in pulling the
+nets. With straining back and smarting fingers he worked by the
+fisherman's side hauling the heavy webbing to the deck. As they reached
+the middle of the string the weight of the sagging nets increased and a
+number of glistening barracuda floundered from the water, gilled by the
+strong mesh. The girl observed the fish with darkening brow.
+
+"The dirty robbers," she exclaimed wrathfully. "Look what they have
+already. I'll bet I'd have had a good haul if they had let me alone."
+
+Gregory noticed as he straightened up that the distant speck on the
+water was fast assuming the proportions of a motor-launch. He noticed
+too that the approaching craft was coming at a high rate of speed and
+was swerving shoreward. Tugging harder at the nets, he worked doggedly
+on, listening to the staccato bark of the speed-craft as Mascola drew
+close. They were hauling at the last string when he came within hailing
+distance.
+
+"What's the matter?" he called. "You're pulling my nets."
+
+"Don't pay any attention to him," admonished Dickie Lang. "I'm not going
+to hollow my head off. Keep working and wait until he comes alongside."
+
+With his motor purring like an angry cat, Mascola whirled his craft
+about in a wave-washed circle and drew abreast of the _Petrel_. At the
+same instant Gregory and the fisherman lifted the last piece of the
+Italian's nets to the deck. Gregory straightened his aching back and
+looked toward the early morning visitor, but his eyes did not get as far
+as Mascola. They remained riveted on the launch.
+
+Never had he seen such a boat. She poised on the waves like a gull,
+quivering with potential energy, ready for instant flight. From her
+sharply V-ed bow to her delicately molded stern, every line of the trim
+craft spoke eloquently of the plan of a master-designer who fashioned
+her with a single purpose--speed.
+
+"What's the matter I say? You're pulling my nets."
+
+Gregory freed his eyes with an effort from the launch to survey its
+owner. Mascola turned angrily on the leather cushion and glared at the
+_Petrel's_ deck.
+
+Dickie Lang walked coolly to the rail. "Sure I'm pulling your nets,"
+she said. "I've got them all aboard. And that's where they're going to
+stay until you pay me for the fish your outfit took from my nets."
+
+"I never take your fish. I don't know----"
+
+"Oh, yes you do, Mascola. Boris laid around me and robbed my nets.
+There's my webbing lying right where I put it out. I caught that crazy
+Russian of yours with the goods and he lost his head and your boat. He's
+piled up over there on the beach."
+
+Mascola rose hastily and followed the direction of her arm. In his anger
+at beholding Dickie taking his nets from the water he had not noticed
+the wreck of the _Roma_. A torrent of Italian words burst from his lips.
+His cheeks purpled and his eyes grew hot with passion. When he
+controlled himself to speak in English he cried:
+
+"I'll have you arrested for stealing my nets. I'll get a warrant and
+search your wharf and your house."
+
+"But you won't find your nets." Dickie Lang supplied the words and went
+on: "Listen, you crook, if you and I don't settle this thing up right
+now you won't find a piece of your nets big enough to swear what it is.
+I'm not trying to rob you like you robbed me. I just want what's coming
+to me. Not a cent more. If you give me that I'll throw your webbing
+over. If you don't I'll trail them every inch of the way to Legonia and
+cut them into ribbons with the propeller. It's up to you, Mascola."
+
+The Italian flashed a glance to the cove where the _Roma's_ angling
+mast appeared against the beach. Then he looked out to sea and his eyes
+brightened as the mast of a fishing-boat rounded the point and turned
+shoreward. It was Ankovitch with the _Lura_.
+
+His launch rode high on a capping swell and a puff of wind caused him to
+look anxiously at the beach. The tide was beginning to set in strong and
+the breeze was freshening. He snapped out his watch and scowled.
+Whatever was done for the _Roma_ must be done at once.
+
+"What do you want?" he flashed.
+
+"Pay for the fish you stole from my nets. From what I saw in your nets I
+figure I had all of a ton." She glanced at the fish lying on the deck.
+"You've got about five hundred here. I'll allow you for that. You pay me
+the difference at three cents. That will be forty-five dollars."
+
+Mascola glared. His hand crept slowly to his pocket.
+
+"None of that."
+
+The girl's words cut like a knife. The hand which lay in her pocket
+turned and the coat bulged outward.
+
+"I was getting my money," Mascola growled.
+
+"All right. Face about the other way when you get it."
+
+As the Italian turned, Dickie Lang caught up a rifle and threw it
+loosely over her shoulder. Mascola turned to look straight into the
+muzzle and drew back sharply. Then he flourished a roll of bills.
+
+"Quick," he said. "You have me at a disadvantage this time. I will pay.
+Here is the money."
+
+He tossed the bills to the deck.
+
+"All right, Mascola. That squares us for to-day. I'll dump your nets
+over right where they are as soon as I check up the money. And the next
+time you try to lay around me I'm going to run through your nets and cut
+them to pieces."
+
+Mascola dropped to the cushioned seat and whirled half about.
+
+"I will not forget," he said. "To-day you win. Next time----"
+
+His words were lost in the roar of his motor. The speed-boat shot
+forward like a horse at the touch of a spur. In a whirl of white water
+Mascola sped away for the beach.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+YOU'LL HAVE TO SHOW ME
+
+
+The sky was reddening in the east when the last of the nets were pulled
+aboard. Rounding Long Point, the _Petrel_ took up the homeward track as
+the sun peeped over the low brown hills and caressed the sea. Dickie
+Lang looked back at the wreck of the _Roma_ and the light of victory
+died slowly from her eyes.
+
+"I'm not sorry for Mascola," she exclaimed. "He got only what was coming
+to him. But I am sorry for the little boat. She was a good little scout
+and she was game to the end. You'll find that boats are a good deal like
+people," she went on, "when you know them as well as I do. Some of them
+are cranky and have to be coaxed along. Others are just plain lazy and
+must be pounded on the back. And there are some that are treacherous and
+the minute they get you in a tight place, they will lay down cold."
+
+Her last words gave her the cue to continue: "And the ocean is full of
+tight places. Mascola found himself in one this morning. He had the
+sense to realize it and act before it was too late. It went against his
+grain to be beaten by a girl. But by cashing in when he did, he saved a
+boat perhaps. So he put his pride in his pocket. Sometimes you've got
+to do that," she concluded seriously. "It hurts. But it's business."
+
+Gregory's face showed his surprise at her annunciation of the business
+principle and, sensing that her admission might become embarrassing at
+some future time, the girl changed the subject abruptly.
+
+"Did you see McCoy yesterday?" she asked.
+
+"Yes. We had a long talk last night. He's coming to work for me as
+house-foreman."
+
+"That's fine," Dickie commended. "You'll like him. He'll be just the man
+for you."
+
+Gregory nodded. "Yes," he answered. "I think we'll get on fine when we
+understand each other better."
+
+"What do you mean? You haven't had a row with Jack already, have you?"
+
+"Not exactly. Just a difference of opinion. I had an idea I worked out
+yesterday. McCoy couldn't see it."
+
+"What was the idea?"
+
+"It was a plan I had for getting labor. I wanted to hire a certain class
+of men. McCoy didn't."
+
+"How did it come out?"
+
+"I'm going to hire them, of course. I told McCoy if he didn't like it,
+he could take the job or leave it. He decided to take it."
+
+"It's the foreman's job to hire the help," the girl observed. "What was
+your plan?"
+
+Gregory looked the girl full in the eyes for a moment. Then he began:
+"I'm going to organize my business on a cooperative basis, make my
+employees partners, pay them a graduated minimum wage and a share in the
+profits which will be held back as a bonus to make it worth their while
+to stick with me during the season."
+
+"And McCoy thought it wouldn't work?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Neither do I."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+Dickie knew the question was coming and was already prepared to give her
+reasons.
+
+"When a man works for you," she explained, "he wants his money every
+Saturday night. He's earned it and he should have it. He may leave the
+minute it's in his fingers and hit the grit again. But he's worked a
+week at least and that's something. If he thinks you're holding out on
+him to get him to stick, he wouldn't even start."
+
+"That is what McCoy said. But you are both wrong. The men I am figuring
+on hiring will stick. That is why I am hiring them."
+
+"Don't think much of a bunch like that," Dickie commented. "A man that
+can't get a job to-day is a bum. And the fellow doesn't live that ever
+gets through knocking around. That is if he's a real man."
+
+"You're wrong again," Gregory contradicted. "They are eighteen-carat
+men. I've tried them out already. I know."
+
+"Where?"
+
+"In France."
+
+"You mean soldiers?"
+
+"Yes. I called up a friend of mine last night in Port Angeles. He used
+to be first lieutenant in my company. He's a reporter on _The Times_
+now. Hawkins told me a lot of the boys were out of work and he promised
+to look up a number of addresses of men in my old outfit. To-morrow I'm
+going to the city to round them up. They've stood by me before in many a
+tight place. It cost them a lot sometimes. But they stuck just the same.
+Now I've got a chance to stick by them. And I'm going to do it because I
+know they'll come up to the scratch."
+
+The girl was impressed by the earnestness of his words. He meant well of
+course. It was a splendid idea but----
+
+She voiced her objections. "You'll find business is a different game
+from war."
+
+"Perhaps. But in both there is hard fighting. And when you are going
+into a scrap with all you've got, you want men behind you you can bank
+on."
+
+"I wouldn't bank on them too strong. A lot of the ones I've seen think
+they're too good to work at an ordinary job. They have an idea the war
+has made them worth a lot more money than they really are. They like to
+tell what great things they've done. But when it comes to----"
+
+"I've seen that kind, too. On both sides of the water. Over there no one
+depended on them. They were shunted from pillar to post until they hit a
+place where they couldn't even hear the guns. When the war was over
+they came back. They were whole. And they talked."
+
+He paused for a moment and looked down at the deck. Then he went on in a
+low voice: "The kind I'm figuring on are not whole. And they don't
+talk."
+
+Dickie Lang said no more. When a man spoke with such depth of feeling,
+what was the use of trying to talk him out of it. Of course he was
+wrong. But he'd just have to find it out for himself. In silence they
+neared the entrance to the bay and threaded their way among the
+fishing-boats as they drew up to the Lang wharf. Gregory roused himself
+at the sight of the Lang dock and turned to the girl.
+
+"You took me out this morning," he said, "to show me you knew your
+business. Now it's up to me to show you I know mine. I'm going right to
+work. I expect a hard fight, but I'll tell you right now this idea of
+mine is going to win out."
+
+Dickie smiled as they drew alongside the dock.
+
+"Go to it," she said. "I won't say you're wrong. But you'll certainly
+have to show me."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+A DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE
+
+
+"What do you expect me to do with a bunch of cripples like that?"
+
+Jack McCoy burst into the office of the Legonia Fish Cannery and hurled
+the question angrily at his young employer.
+
+Gregory looked hard at McCoy's flushed face and snapping gray eyes. Then
+he said quietly: "I expect you to train them."
+
+"My God!" McCoy came a step closer. Then he burst out: "Don't you know
+it's hard enough to run a cannery with real men without----"
+
+Gregory was on his feet in an instant.
+
+"Don't say it," he gritted. "Unless you want to hook up with me right
+now."
+
+McCoy sought to explain.
+
+"I'm not saying anything against them," he said. "But you don't
+understand. I wonder if you have any idea what it means to break in a
+bunch like that."
+
+"Yes. That is why I hired you. I believed you could do it. If you can't,
+I'll find some one else who will."
+
+Gregory leaned against the desk.
+
+"Listen, McCoy," he said. "You and I have to get down to cases right
+now. There's no use flying off the handle. If you have anything to say,
+I'll hear it. Anything except a word against those men out there.
+They've had enough already. You told me the other day," he went on, "you
+could break in anybody who'd stick. You showed me just the kind of work
+there is to do. These men I'll guarantee will stick and I think you'll
+get quite a jolt when you see what they've been taught to do. They're
+not all cripples. I've got some huskies for the strong-arm stuff. And
+there is a lot the other fellows can do. I want you to show them how.
+You are not taking much of a chance that I can see. You'll get your
+money the same as you always have, more if you stick through. And every
+dollar we make, you'll have a few cents of it at least. Can you see
+anything wrong with that?"
+
+"I don't see where you're going to get off. You seem to think there is a
+fortune in this business. I'll tell you there isn't. It's hard sledding
+to make both ends meet as it is."
+
+"I know it. Last night I sat up half the night going over the books. I
+found my father lost more money on account of labor trouble than from
+any other cause."
+
+"Except not being able to get fish," corrected McCoy.
+
+"Exactly. That's labor just the same. Since this idea came to me it's
+getting bigger all the time. I'm going to extend it to the boats as well
+as the inside. I've got a plan to have Miss Lang take charge of the
+fishing end, train my men and run her boats for me on a flat rental and
+salary."
+
+McCoy began to show more interest. "Is she in on the deal?" he asked.
+
+"I haven't had a chance to talk with her yet. I'm going to see her
+to-day."
+
+McCoy smiled. "I'd like to see Dick's face when you spring the
+proposition of having her work for you," he said.
+
+"Suppose she turns me down. Has that anything to do with your working
+for me?"
+
+McCoy's face flushed. "Don't know that it has," he admitted, "but----"
+
+The telephone interrupted further conversation and Gregory turned to the
+instrument.
+
+"Yes--Mr. Gregory at the phone. All right."
+
+McCoy watched the silent figure as he listened to the message; saw his
+jaws set tighter as he replaced the receiver and faced about.
+
+"I'd kind of like to talk this thing over with Blair," McCoy began. "You
+see----"
+
+"I just received a telegram from the sanitarium. Mr. Blair died this
+morning at nine o'clock."
+
+McCoy crumpled in his chair and rested his head in his hands. "Poor old
+John," he muttered brokenly, "I ought to have gone up last night when
+they phoned me he was so much worse." He raised his head and there were
+tears shining in his eyes. "They didn't make them any whiter than John
+Blair," he said.
+
+Gregory agreed.
+
+"I knew him only slightly," he said. "But I surely counted on him. His
+loss means a lot to me. I'll go up there right away and see if there is
+anything I can do. Would you like to go with me?"
+
+McCoy could only nod and the two men left the building together.
+
+The hearts of men are tested in various crucibles. In a smoothly-moving
+world human paths diverge and the grooves are often widened by
+indifference. In times of stress, the diverse threads of commonplace
+existence may merge into a single strand. Then it is that casual
+acquaintances become friends, when man rubs elbow with man and hearts
+beat together in mutual sympathy and understanding.
+
+Jack McCoy returned to Legonia saddened by the loss of an old friend;
+gladdened by the belief that he had found a new one. It was not what
+Gregory had done that made the difference to McCoy; simply the way he
+had done it. Any man with money could have defrayed the expenses of
+Blair's sickness and funeral. But it took a real man to make the
+gratuity appear as a favor to the donor.
+
+When he met Gregory at the cannery the morning after their return to
+Legonia, McCoy was not slow in admitting that he was strong for the
+boss.
+
+"If we had time, Jack," Gregory was saying, "there is nothing I'd rather
+do right now than give you a week off on full pay. But you know what
+that would mean to us at this time. Before we start in I want to make
+you another proposition."
+
+As the foreman said nothing, he asked bluntly: "How would you like the
+job as house manager?"
+
+"Fine," McCoy answered. "Do you think I could cut it?"
+
+"Do you?"
+
+"Yes," McCoy answered with no hesitation.
+
+"All right then," Gregory answered in the same manner. "So do I. You've
+got a real job ahead of you. Minutes are going to count in the next few
+days. The next batch of my service men are due to-morrow."
+
+McCoy jumped up. "That means a day's work for me," he exclaimed, and
+hurried out.
+
+Gregory glanced at his watch. The next thing to be done was to see
+Dickie Lang. The matter of securing fish was of cardinal importance. The
+girl would be at the dock about this time. It would afford him a good
+chance to make his proposal while she was getting the fish ready for
+shipment.
+
+Some time after Gregory had left the cannery, Barnes reported he was out
+of carborundum and McCoy set out at once for Legonia.
+
+"They'd be all day sending it up," he said. "I've got to go down anyway
+and check over some stuff for us at the freight-house so it might as
+well be now."
+
+On nearing the Lang dock he heard Dickie's voice issuing from a pile of
+fish-boxes at the shore end. McCoy checked his steps involuntarily at
+the girl's words, and without meaning to--listened.
+
+"So you want to pay me a flat rate for my boats and hire me to train
+your men with my fishermen?"
+
+"Yes. With a share in the profits."
+
+It was Gregory's voice. McCoy noted the quiet tone used by the girl. He
+felt ashamed to eavesdrop. But he was torn with curiosity to hear Dick's
+answer.
+
+"Well, you've got your nerve, I'd say. And then some. Do you think you
+can run my business better than I can myself?"
+
+"If I did, I'd try to buy you out. I'm asking you to run my boats as
+well as your own and----"
+
+"Be your hired girl."
+
+Dickie supplied the words and went on angrily: "Say, the Lang boats were
+here a long time before you came. And they'll be here as long after you
+go. They have gone on their own hook ever since they went into the
+water. And that's the way they are going to stay. My dad never took
+orders from anybody. He ran his boats the way he pleased. He was
+independent. I'm the same way. And I want to tell you right now, I
+wouldn't sell out my independence to you or any other man."
+
+McCoy crept back into the shadow of the fishing-boxes and making a wide
+detour went on into town. He was sorry he had listened. It wasn't a
+white thing to do. He liked Gregory. He was his friend. Then why, he
+asked himself, was he kind of glad that Dick had turned down his
+proposition?
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+DIABLO LUCK
+
+
+Busy days followed for Kenneth Gregory, and with the loyal support of
+Jack McCoy, much was accomplished.
+
+The Legonia Fish Cannery wakened from its long sleep and took on new
+life. From the receiving floor to the warehouse everything had been
+carefully overhauled and put into first-class shape. Necessary repairs
+and alterations had been made. Supplies and material were on hand. A
+nucleus of skilled labor had been carefully selected by McCoy and
+brought to train the service men who came to Legonia on every incoming
+train.
+
+The sleepy little fishing village viewed the vanguard of the ex-soldiers
+with sullen indifference. Silvanus Rock had told them not to worry their
+heads over the "efforts of an impractical dreamer to turn the town
+upside down." And who knew, if Rock didn't? As the days went by,
+however, and the invasion became more noticeable, the alien element of
+the fishing colony began to experience a feeling of sharp resentment
+against the new owner of the Legonia cannery and his wild scheme. But
+again the foremost citizen had come to the fore and quieted their
+fears, turning them into open contempt and ridicule by his words:
+
+"What can he do with a bunch of crippled rag-a-muffins? Look at them for
+yourselves. There's hardly a whole man among them. I give him a month to
+go to the wall. It's the old saying of a 'fool and his money.'"
+
+The opening of the new cannery presented every appearance of proving the
+truth of Rock's prophecy and caused the aliens to laugh openly.
+
+"How can they run without fish?" sneered Mascola as he checked the catch
+of the incoming boats. "They haven't had enough in a week to pay them to
+keep up steam."
+
+Ten days after the opening Gregory was asking Jack McCoy the same
+question.
+
+"I tell you, Mac, something has to be done. The Lang boats are falling
+down on the job. You'll admit we haven't had a paying run since we
+started and expenses are climbing."
+
+McCoy nodded. "I know it," he agreed. "But Dick has had hard luck. None
+of the boats have brought in much lately. The fish have taken out to
+sea. Then Mascola's men have been causing a lot of trouble."
+
+"That's just it," Gregory interrupted. "The girl's tackled too big a
+job. I was afraid of it all the time. She's all right, Jack. I'm not
+saying a word against her. But she was foolish to get on her
+'high-horse' and turn down my proposition. It's a man's job to get all
+the fish we're going to need. Not a woman's. Of course I know she's
+doing her best," he went on. "But we can't go on this way. If she can't
+make good on her contract we'll have to take it out of her hands. I'm
+only going to give her a few more days."
+
+"Then what?" McCoy questioned.
+
+"Then we'll run things ourselves. I've been figuring on it for three or
+four days. That's why I'm having all our boats put in shape."
+
+"How will you man them?" asked McCoy quickly.
+
+"I've arranged for that too. The last time I was in the city I lined up
+a bunch of ex-navy men. They are fair sailors and have had some
+experience in handling launches and small boats. I'm going to bring them
+down here the same as I figured at first. If the girl wants to help me
+with her men, all right. If not, we'll go it alone. It's a ground-hog
+case. We've got to get the fish."
+
+"I wish Dick wasn't so darned independent," observed McCoy. "If it was
+anybody else, they'd jump at your offer."
+
+"That's the trouble," Gregory admitted. "She's a woman and she's mighty
+hard to talk out of an idea she sets her mind on. If I was dealing with
+a man I'd have come to a show-down long before this. As it is, I'm going
+to see her this afternoon and try to get down to brass tacks."
+
+A screech of the steam whistle interrupted further speech and the two
+men jumped to their feet and hurried out on the floor of the cannery at
+the signal to resume work.
+
+"Only have enough to run about an hour," McCoy answered in response to
+Gregory's question concerning the supply of fish on hand. And as he
+noticed the frown on his employer's face, he supplemented: "We've had
+enough the last few days to break the crew in anyway."
+
+"That's something, but it isn't good enough," Gregory answered. "You're
+fixed right now to handle three times what we're getting. And I'm paying
+for it. I'm not worrying about things in here, Mac. Everything is going
+fine."
+
+He paused suddenly and his face glowed with enthusiasm as he walked
+nearer the cutting-bench.
+
+"Look at the way those poor blind fellows are taking to their job, Mac,"
+he whispered. "They can't tell black from white but watch them work.
+They'll be doing as much in a week as a man with two good eyes. How are
+you coming, Dorgan?"
+
+He addressed a cutter working at the nearest bench. The blind man turned
+quickly.
+
+"Fine, Capt. It's getting easier all the time. 'Twon't be long before
+I'll be making real wages at this job."
+
+They passed from the blind cutters and came to the capping machine where
+a man with an artificial leg was being instructed in soldering the cans.
+Again Gregory's eyes expressed his satisfaction.
+
+"That's fine, Carlson," he commended. "You're getting on fine."
+
+The man at the machine nodded. "Nothing much to it," he answered
+cheerfully. "Got kind of tired standing at first. But I don't notice it
+much now."
+
+Kenneth Gregory strove to express his appreciation of McCoy's work as
+they came to one of the empty warehouses, but the manager refused to
+take the credit.
+
+"It was your idea," he said, "you paid me to carry it out. At first I
+didn't think much of it. But now I believe it's going to work. The men
+are tickled to death. I never had a crew that tried so hard to learn or
+picked it up so quickly. I can handle an average run with them right now
+and they've only been working broken hours for a week."
+
+Gregory turned quickly to McCoy and said earnestly: "It's a big idea,
+Mac. It will work. It's got to work. It's getting bigger all the time.
+And I'll be damned if I'm going to have a girl hang me up by falling
+down on her job."
+
+He shut his lips tight as he drew a blue-print from his pocket and
+spread it out on an empty case.
+
+"Now I want to go over these plans for making a bunk-house out of this
+building. The boys can't get a decent place to stay in the town. The
+contractor will be here in half an hour. After I've closed with him I'm
+going down to the Lang dock and see the girl."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Dickie Lang paced the docks in nervous expectancy while she checked in
+her returning fleet and conferred with one of her fishing captains.
+
+"I'll tell you, Tom, we've got to get them. I'm under contract to supply
+Mr. Gregory with fish and I can't fall down like this. Look here."
+Shoving a tally-sheet before his eyes, she pointed to the totals. "Not
+enough there to last him half a day. He's beginning to eat them up.
+We've got to get more."
+
+"But if they ain't runnin', what you going to do?"
+
+"Go after them," she snapped. "Mascola's getting fish. He's going out to
+sea for them. He brought in a good haul yesterday from Diablo. That's
+why I sent the big boats over there with the _Petrel_ scouting ahead."
+
+The fisherman shook his head dubiously.
+
+"You're takin' a tall chance," he said slowly. "Things happen out Diablo
+way. Your dad never could make it stick out there. He lost a heap around
+that devil-island. That's why he give up fishin' out there."
+
+"He didn't give it up," the girl flashed, "any more than I'm going to
+give it up. Diablo's got your goats, and you know it. There's always
+fish around the island and I'll bet you two to one when the fleet comes
+back they'll have them to burn."
+
+Turning with disgust, Dickie walked to the end of the dock and sought to
+pierce the shifting curtain of mist which hung about the inlet. It came
+to her suddenly that in her anger at Gregory's proposal, she had made a
+big promise. Moreover she had entered into a contract which she was
+finding more difficult to fulfill than she had imagined. Perhaps she was
+a fool not to have taken up the cannery-owner's proposition. At least it
+was worth considering. By accepting his terms all the worry would have
+been shifted to him and she would have been able to play safe. In a year
+she would have been out of debt. With her boats paid for, she could
+afford to be independent. Now, she was going further behind each day.
+Worse than that, she was falling down on her contract.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Finishing his business with the contractor a half-hour before closing
+time, Gregory hurried down to the Lang wharf.
+
+He found the girl busied with her tally-sheets and stepped behind a row
+of fish-boxes and waited. From his position he could see the neighboring
+dock where a number of alien fishermen were at work mending nets. Apart
+from the others was the huge figure of a red-shirted man standing
+motionless, scowling in the direction of the Lang wharf. As he looked
+closer, he became conscious of the fact that he had seen the red-shirted
+giant before.
+
+Boisterous laughter floated across the intervening strip of water and a
+scarlet sleeve flashed as the big man shook his fist threateningly at
+the rival dock.
+
+"They are kidding the Russian about losing the _Roma_ and getting canned
+by the boss," explained a fisherman who was passing by. "Boris is sorer
+than a boiled owl at being run on the rocks by a girl."
+
+Gregory watched the excited foreigner in silence. A man like that could
+cause a lot of trouble. Suddenly he heard the sound of low voices on the
+other side of the lane of fish-boxes.
+
+"What's that got to do with it? We've got to live as well as she has. We
+ain't gettin' enough I tell you, and you know it. What's the use of
+bein' a damn fool?"
+
+The words died away in a low mumble as the men passed on. Gregory
+emerged from his cover and looked after the two fishermen. Then he
+noticed the girl had finished her calculations and hurried toward her.
+
+"I suppose you want to know what I have," she anticipated. "Well, I
+haven't much yet. If you stay round a little while though I'll show you
+a real haul. I'm expecting my boats back at any minute from El Diablo."
+
+Gregory scarcely knew how to begin the interview. The girl was clearly
+unreasonable and flared up at the slightest intimation that she was
+unable to manage her own business. And yet it was perfectly clear that
+she could not.
+
+"Fish is what we're needing right now," he said with blunt emphasis.
+"We're ready to go. McCoy has a good crew and he can handle them fast. A
+whole lot faster than we've been getting them," he added.
+
+She interrupted as he knew she would.
+
+"Well, I'm doing my level darnedest," she retorted. "If I wasn't I guess
+I wouldn't have risked my best boats at Diablo in a fog." As Gregory
+said nothing in the way of argument, she challenged: "Do you think you
+could do any better?"
+
+"Yes," he answered without any hesitation, "I think I could. That is if
+you would help me. I think if we would pull together on this proposition
+we could do a whole lot. Right now you are threatened with labor
+trouble."
+
+"You don't know what you're talking about. My men are loyal to me and
+always have been. They'll stick from start to finish."
+
+Gregory related the conversation he had overheard a few minutes before.
+As he finished, he noted that a worried expression crept to the girl's
+eyes, though she said:
+
+"What's that amount to? There are always some who are dissatisfied and
+try to cause trouble. I'm well rid of a bunch like that anyway. There
+are not many of them."
+
+It was on Gregory's tongue to broach his proposal when he saw the girl
+looking eagerly past him into the wall of fog. Through the veil he
+caught the dim outline of an approaching fishing-boat.
+
+"Here comes the _Curlew_ back from Diablo. Before you say anything more
+wait until you see what luck they've had. If I don't miss my guess we'll
+have fish enough for you now all right."
+
+Together they walked down the steep gangway to the swaying float.
+
+"If I can't get them at Diablo, I can't get them anywhere," exclaimed
+Dickie Lang. Then she shouted to the captain of the _Curlew_: "What
+luck, Jones?"
+
+From the gray void of fog a deep voice floated back:
+
+"Diablo luck. Never got nothin' and the _Petrel_ was smashed to hell."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+SALVAGE
+
+
+Dickie Lang was nonplussed. Her best bet was thrown into the discard.
+Her pride and independence had been at stake. For her most valued
+possessions, she had risked her all, and "stood pat" on the turn-up at
+the devil-island. Her cards were all on the table. Now she had lost.
+Leaning against the sagging rail she watched the _Curlew_ draw alongside
+the float. Her slender fingers gripped the hand-rail and the sharp
+splinters bit into her hands. But what was that to the pain which gnawed
+at her heart? She hadn't made good. The taste of failure was a new and
+strange sensation. She had made her fight, done her best. But it wasn't
+good enough. But why was it necessary to take the little _Petrel_? Was
+Diablo to beat her as it had beaten others? No, she must buck up. She
+was Bill Lang's daughter.
+
+"It's all in the game," she exclaimed to Gregory. "As I told you, the
+sea plays no favorites."
+
+Before the young man could answer, she had turned from him to meet the
+men who were climbing from the incoming vessel.
+
+"Hello, boys. Tough luck. But we can't help it. Tell me what happened.
+Make it short. I've got a lot to do."
+
+The fishermen grouped themselves about her as the quivering figure of a
+little Mexican lunged through the circle and began to speak:
+
+"_Dios, Senorita_, it was very bad," he quavered. "We were lying close
+to shore. The fog was everywhere. We could not see. And the anchor, it
+would not hold. I was at the chain as you say I must when I hear a boat
+coming. _Jesus de mi alma_, but she is coming fast. I can not leave as
+we are drifting and I say to Pedro that he make a noise with the
+whistle. But he does not get a chance. As he jumped for the engine-house
+a big boat she come right out of the fog and before we can move, she
+smash us all to hell. I fall into the water with Pedro and loose the
+dory. For a time we drift. Then we are picked up by _Senor_ Jones."
+
+"Did the _Petrel_ sink right away?" Dickie interrupted.
+
+Another man crowded forward and answered the question.
+
+"She didn't sink at all, miss. She wasn't far from the shore and she
+drifted in with the tide that was settin' in strong. Then she piled up
+on the rocks. She's layin' there now, high and dry on the beach."
+
+"Didn't the boat that smashed them, lay to?" volleyed the girl.
+
+Again the Mexican began to speak excitedly: "_Sangre de Christo_, no,"
+he chattered, "The boat, she was very big, _Senorita_, and she did not
+stop."
+
+"Nonsense, Manuel. You were crazy with fright. Don't talk like a fool.
+Go home and go to bed. When you've had a good sleep, I'll talk with you
+again."
+
+Stung into action by Jones's statement that the hull of the _Petrel_ was
+still on the beach, she turned suddenly to the wharf.
+
+"Tom Howard," she called sharply. When a voice answered, she ordered:
+"Fill up the _Pelican_ with oil and stock her with grub. You can get it
+from Swanson. Throw in a couple of deep-sea hooks and a lot of good
+hauser. Mind it's new. Be ready to pull out in an hour." She turned
+again to the men before her. "Jones, I want you to get the _Curlew_
+ready. We may need two boats to pull her off. You know where they went
+ashore. Take Johnson and Rasmussen with you. We've got to move lively. A
+boat won't hang together long out there."
+
+"Rasmussen's sick. How about Pete Carlin? He was with me coming over."
+
+"Don't want him, Jones. Got to have men who know the game round Diablo
+in a fog. Take Sorenson."
+
+The fisherman nodded and lumbered up the gangway followed by others.
+Dickie Lang jammed her hands deep down into her pockets and shrugged her
+shoulders as she turned to Gregory.
+
+"If it isn't one thing, it's another," she said quietly. "Can you beat
+it? Manuel saying he was run down? He was scared to death. I don't
+believe a thing touched him. He just went to sleep and drifted in on the
+rocks and made up that story to save his job. Well, we'll know when I
+see the hull."
+
+Gregory listened, scarcely hearing the girl's words. At her announcement
+of going to the island he began to make tentative plans to accompany
+her. There might be a lot he could do. And she sure needed help. He
+wondered if he could offer his assistance without again antagonizing
+her.
+
+"I'd like to go with you," he said bluntly. "I don't know much about the
+sea yet, but maybe I can do some of the strong-arm stuff and learn
+something. Besides, I want to have a look at Diablo."
+
+Dickie regarded him approvingly.
+
+"How about the cannery?" she asked. "My boats will go on fishing just
+the same."
+
+"McCoy can take care of things all right until I get back. I'll learn a
+lot more over there than sticking around here."
+
+"You're the boss of that," she replied. Then she added as an
+afterthought. "I'd be glad to have you."
+
+As they walked to the wharf Gregory encountered McCoy and explained the
+situation.
+
+"So I'm going out there," he concluded. "While I'm away it's up to you."
+
+McCoy, he noticed, did not enthuse over the idea.
+
+"Diablo's a dangerous place to be fooling around at this time of the
+year," he said.
+
+"If she can take the risk, I surely can," Gregory answered promptly.
+
+"You're needed here," objected McCoy. "Everything's new and there's
+liable to be something come up I don't know about."
+
+"Then do the best you can. I'll back you up. You know a lot more about
+it anyway than I do."
+
+McCoy lapsed into silence while Gregory hurried away to make ready for
+the trip. When they were ready to shove off, McCoy watched the two boats
+slide out into the fog with conflicting emotions. Dick knew how to take
+care of herself all right. She could handle a boat in bad weather with
+the best of them. But, was that good enough? He reflected suddenly that
+Bill Lang _had_ been the best of them. And it was on just such a day as
+this that Bill Lang had met his death on Diablo with Gregory's father.
+
+Leaning against the dripping rail, he cursed the circumstances which
+prevented his being at the girl's side if anything went wrong. He liked
+the boss or he would have told him to look for another man. And
+Gregory's banking on him, tied him up. His inability to join the
+expedition gave to another the chance which should have been his. Torn
+by anxiety for the girl's welfare and another emotion he was slower in
+analyzing, he listened to the faint gulping of the _Pelican's_ exhaust
+until it was no longer audible.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The sun rose sullenly from a fog-spotted sea and glared wrathfully at
+the wreaths of low-lying mist which obscured his vision of the
+saw-toothed peaks of El Diablo. Under the warmth of his gaze, the
+white-fleeced clouds wavered, shifting about uncertainly. As if loath to
+leave the devil-island they had guarded throughout the long night, they
+contracted slowly, niggardly exposing a line of rugged cliffs which
+shone bleak and gray in the strengthening light of early morning.
+
+"It's breaking up at last. Look!"
+
+Dickie Lang pointed to the dark blot on the horizon.
+
+"Can't. If I take my eyes from this needle for a second the boat'll run
+all over the ocean."
+
+Gregory continued to stare at the compass while the girl smiled at his
+earnestness.
+
+"Tom will take her now," she said, nodding to Howard to relieve him at
+the wheel. Then she added: "You've done fine. We've been going all night
+on dead reckoning and we're not far off."
+
+Gregory surrendered the wheel with a sigh of relief and followed the
+direction of the girl's extended arm.
+
+"That's Diablo," she announced. "I'm mighty glad the fog is shifting.
+Wouldn't have needed to have started so early if we had known. But
+that's the fun of the sea. You never know. There is no use trying to
+make it in there in a fog," she added. "It is bad enough when you can
+see."
+
+While she talked with Johnson concerning the location of the wreck,
+Gregory found time to note the towering cliffs which rose precipitously
+from the blue-green sea. Somewhere along that rock-crusted coast, he
+reflected bitterly, Diablo had claimed another of the Lang boats only a
+few months ago. Somewhere among the white-crested rocks his father and
+Bill Lang had met their death. He wondered where, but did not ask.
+Perhaps the girl would speak of it.
+
+For some time he watched the mist-clouds flee before the brightening
+rays of the rising sun. Then he noticed that Dickie was standing by his
+side. Her eyes too were held by the rugged coast.
+
+"The devil dumped it there," he heard her say in a low voice. "And when
+he saw what a hellish coast it was, he named it for himself. That's what
+dad used to say." She flung out her arm in the direction of a towering
+peak. "At the base of that highest cliff was where the _Gull_ went on
+the rocks. They call it 'Hell-Hole.'"
+
+Staring in silence at the saddle-backed mountain, their minds traveled
+into the past. Then Gregory asked: "Does any one live on the island?"
+
+"It's a sheep-ranch. A man by the name of Bandrist has it leased on long
+time from the government. He's Swiss, I think. He farms a little of the
+land that isn't too rocky and runs his sheep over the rest. The island
+is about twenty miles long and over ten in the widest place."
+
+"Is fishing good out here?"
+
+"Fine," the girl answered. "Only it's dangerous. Fogs in spring and
+summer, and storms the rest of the time. Lots of albacore and tuna. But
+it costs boats and sometimes men to get them. Dad used to fish out here,
+but something was always sure to happen about the time he got well
+started. Just like yesterday. Diablo's a place," she said slowly, "where
+a man just can't make a mistake. If he does, he never lives to tell what
+happened." She pointed to the frowning cliffs which guarded the shore
+and extended far out into the water in a series of white-capped reefs.
+"No anchorage," she explained. "And a strong inshore current. When you
+get weather out here, it's nasty, and it hits you all in a bunch."
+
+As they neared the island the _Pelican_ slowed down to wait for the
+_Curlew_ which had been lagging astern.
+
+"Jones must be having engine-trouble," commented Dickie Lang. "Or else
+Diablo's got him buffaloed too."
+
+"What do you mean?" Gregory asked.
+
+Lowering her voice so that it would not reach the two fishermen on the
+_Pelican_, she said: "They all give Diablo a wide berth. The fishermen
+are scared to death of the island. If you want to hear a lot of wild
+tales, just talk to some of my men at Legonia. Look at Manuel. Went
+clean out of his head and the funny part of it is the others all
+believed him. What's the matter, Jones? Having trouble?"
+
+She addressed the skipper of the _Curlew_ as he brought his craft
+alongside.
+
+"Been havin' it all the way over," the man replied. "Compression's
+gettin' worse all the time." He drew a grimy hand across his blackened
+forehead and squinted in the direction of the island. "No place to be
+foolin' round with a cripple either, I can tell you," he growled.
+"Reckon I'd better lay to until I can get patched up."
+
+The girl's brow wrinkled.
+
+"All right, Jones. I'll go on. Follow when you can. We'll be around that
+next point. Can you beat that?" she exclaimed in a low voice to Gregory.
+"His feet are getting cold too, and he's one of the best men I have."
+
+Keeping well off the headland they rounded the point and turned
+shoreward.
+
+"In there."
+
+Johnson jerked his head in the direction of a small cove which lay
+almost hidden beneath the brow of an overhanging cliff.
+
+"She lays just beyond that arch."
+
+Dickie ordered a halt.
+
+"Can't chance it in there with the big boat. Throw out the hook and keep
+your motor warm, Johnson. We may have to get out of here in a hurry.
+Keep a good eye on the chain for if she starts to drift you'll be on the
+rocks before you can snub her up. Put the dory over, Tom, and we'll go
+ashore and take a look."
+
+Under the powerful sweep of Tom Howard's oars, the small boat darted
+from the shadow of the launch and sped away toward the cove. Rounding
+the natural arch by which the point projected itself into the sea, they
+entered the little cove which nestled at the base of the overhanging
+cliff. Bisecting the cove, a rugged ledge of rock jutted out into the
+sea. Dickie shaded her eyes with her hand and half rose from her seat.
+Cradled between two jagged rocks at the extreme end of the ledge, her
+bow angling sharply, her stern washed by the lapping waves, bruised and
+broken, lay all that was left of her favorite vessel. Only the girl's
+eyes mirrored her emotion as she stared at the wreck.
+
+"Looks as if they made a clean job of it," she observed quietly. "Land
+right in here, Tom. We'll climb up on the ledge and walk over."
+
+Pulling the dory up on the rocks they stumbled over the slippery
+eel-grass and approached the ill-fated craft. Dickie Lang examined the
+hull.
+
+"Looks like Manuel wasn't dreaming, at that," she ejaculated, pointing
+to the jagged hole in the _Petrel's_ side.
+
+"Somebody bumped him all right and it must have been almost in the cove
+or he would never have drifted in here."
+
+The further examination of the wreck went on in silence. The engine was
+half-submerged, Gregory noticed, and the water poured from the
+splintered hull and splashed to the rocks in a series of tiny cataracts.
+
+"Not much of a chance to save anything but the motor and the shaft,"
+Dickie observed. "And we'll have to work lively to do that on this ebb.
+She'll break up on the flood if there's any sea."
+
+As Howard jerked his head in acquiescence with the girl's diagnosis, a
+shower of loose rocks rattled from the overhanging cliff. Dickie walked
+around the _Petrel's_ bow and scrambled to the ledge.
+
+"Looks as if we were going to have company," she announced, pointing in
+the direction of the bluff, where three men were descending the trail to
+the beach. Reaching the ledge the strangers walked steadily toward the
+wreck and halted within a few feet of the salvage party. As they
+jabbered in a French dialect, Gregory listened intently.
+
+Dickie's hand stole to the pocket of her coat. The men seemed bent on
+making trouble. It was best to take no chances. Her fingers sought the
+handle of the Colt in vain. Cursing her negligence in leaving the
+automatic aboard the _Pelican_, she stepped forward for a parley with
+the strangers. Gregory and Howard placed themselves about her as the men
+moved closer.
+
+"No sabe," exclaimed Dickie Lang. "What kind of lingo are they talking
+anyway."
+
+Gregory was dividing his attention between the man with the red beard
+and the weasel-faced stranger who was gesticulating so wildly with his
+long arms.
+
+"Red-beard says nobody's allowed here, or words to that effect," he
+interpreted. "Weasel-face backs him up in it and says for us to beat
+it."
+
+"Tell them what we're here for. And that when we get the boat stripped
+we'll go, and not before."
+
+The red-bearded man shook his heavy head with slow comprehension.
+Weasel-face shuffled closer, his small eyes blinking malevolently. The
+third member of the party, a thick-set man with a face pitted by scars,
+motioned threateningly in the direction of the dory.
+
+Dickie brushed forward.
+
+"I'll try them in dago," she said.
+
+Gregory watched the strangers move closer to their leader as the girl
+began to speak; heard his low-voiced words, uttered in a harsh guttural;
+saw his arm flash out and grasp the girl roughly by the shoulder.
+
+Leaping forward, Gregory found his way blocked by Weasel-face. The
+islander's hand was fumbling at his belt. Gregory's fist snapped his
+head backward. The man's hands flew up, but not in time to block the
+vicious blow which caught him full on the chin.
+
+Weasel-face's legs collapsed. Without a sound he fell in a heap upon the
+rocks. Holding Dickie Lang in his great arms, the red-bearded man saw
+his companion fall by his side. With a snarl he released the struggling
+girl and shoved her from him. Before he could draw his knife Kenneth
+Gregory was upon him.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+REFUSING TO BE BLUFFED
+
+
+Dickie Lang reeled backward as the red-bearded man shoved her from him.
+She felt the eel-grass slipping beneath her feet. Striving vainly to
+regain her balance, she turned cat-like in the air and broke the fall
+with her hands. As she rebounded to her feet she could see Gregory
+wrestling with the man who had precipitated the attack. Close by his
+side, Tom Howard grappled with the scar-faced islander. The third man
+lay huddled on the rocks where he had fallen.
+
+Dickie decided at once upon her course of action. Gregory and Howard
+were holding their own against the two men. It was up to her to see that
+the third of the islanders did not come to the rescue of his companions.
+The man might regain consciousness at any moment. Then there would be
+three against two. She remembered suddenly that there was rope on the
+_Petrel_. Better than that there was a rifle. It was but a few steps to
+the launch. She covered it quickly, caught the main-stay and pulled
+herself aboard.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Kenneth Gregory realized at the outset that he was up against a hard
+fight. In his hurry to close with the red-bearded man, his foot had
+slipped on the slimy grass and he had been forced to clinch to save
+himself from falling. This placed him at a marked disadvantage. His
+opponent had the best of him in weight by at least twenty pounds and was
+heavily muscled. Moreover he possessed a certain agility on the
+grass-covered rocks which rendered any attempt on Gregory's part to
+force the battle, as extremely hazardous. The islander, at home on the
+slippery footing, from the start, became the aggressor.
+
+For a time Gregory was content merely to hold his feet against
+Red-beard's rushes and retain his hold on the islander's knife-arm,
+should he be possessed of a weapon. Men of that type, he reasoned, were
+usually short-winded. In time the heavier man would exhaust himself.
+Then his turn would come. Ahead he noticed a clear space, free from
+grass. The solid rock would afford good footing. There he would have a
+better chance.
+
+If the islander was determined to crowd, he might as well crowd in the
+right direction. Gregory changed front slowly, working his body around
+the heavier man, giving way before his bull-like rushes. When he reached
+the position he desired, he checked his circling movement and began to
+retreat steadily. Keeping his feet wide apart, his body carefully
+balanced, he backed slowly in the direction of the spot where the grass
+would no longer slip beneath his feet.
+
+On the other side of the ledge, Tom Howard battled with the scar-faced
+man. Of equal weight and strength, the struggle resolved itself into a
+question of endurance, as the two men rolled over each other on the
+barnacled rocks in an effort to break the other's grip and strengthen
+his own. Unconscious of their surroundings, their heads locked close to
+their straining bodies, they grappled blindly, working closer to a deep
+crevice which lay across their path. For a brief instant they ceased
+struggling. Their bodies stiffened. With each man seeking to pin the
+other beneath him they rolled to the crevice and dropped from view.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Dickie, aboard the boat, flashed a glance at the gun-rack. The rifle was
+gone. The patent-clasp which held the weapon in place had been wrenched
+free. Her eyes traveled to the empty provision-locker, which stood open.
+Close by it lay a small monkey-wrench with which some one had battered
+the padlock.
+
+A wrench would be better than nothing. She caught it up and ran to the
+deck. Securing a small coil of rope, she jumped to the rocks and raced
+in the direction of the spot where the weasel-faced man had fallen.
+
+As she ran she caught a glimpse of Gregory giving way before the
+red-bearded man toward the table-like surface of the ledge which jutted
+out over the cove. Of Howard she could see nothing. She stopped
+suddenly as she came in view of the spot where the weasel-faced
+islander had sprawled upon the rocks.
+
+The man was gone.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Solid rock beneath his feet at last--Red-beard had forced him to the
+exact spot he desired to reach--Gregory's muscles contracted with a
+jerk. He stopped retreating and began to slide around the islander. If
+he was successful in carrying out his plan it was best to have Red-beard
+on the outside of the ledge.
+
+Divining his purpose, the big man stiffened as he caught a glimpse of
+the sea over his shoulder. Straining closer to each other's throbbing
+bodies, the two men redoubled their efforts to twist the other to the
+outside. Red-beard's breath began to come in gasps. He opened his mouth
+and sucked in the air feverishly. His corded muscles were beginning to
+relax. Gregory's feet shot under the islander's legs and the big man
+narrowly escaped falling. When he regained his balance he could not see
+the water. The cool air from the sea which had been blowing in his face
+now stirred the thick hair which covered his neck. He was on the outside
+of the ledge overlooking the cove.
+
+Before he could recover from his surprise, Red-beard felt the fingers on
+his arm relax. His opponent wriggled in his arms, stiffened and crushed
+against him. As the big man fought to regain his balance, Gregory freed
+an arm and his fist flashed to the islander's ear. Red-beard grunted for
+breath. Again the rigidly flexed forearm cut under his guard and landed
+on his hairy chin. As he raised his big arms to protect his head, his
+antagonist twisted free.
+
+Ducking under the clumsy fist which beat the air above his head, Gregory
+swung again for the islander's chin. With a snarl of rage, the big man
+lowered his head. Then his angry growl changed quickly to a grunt of
+pain as he took the blow full in the forehead. Reeling dizzily, his hand
+sought his girdle. His fingers closed on the hilt of his knife and
+jerked it free.
+
+Gregory hurled himself forward at the sight of the steel. Grasping the
+uplifted arm he wrenched it inward, twisting the man half around.
+Surprised at the suddenness of the move, the islander gave way in a
+series of staggering steps which carried him to the edge of the rock
+ledge overlooking the water.
+
+Retaining his hold on the red-bearded man's wrist, Gregory struck with
+all his force at the bulging chest. As the blow landed he felt the body
+crumple in his arms and the knife clattered to the rocks. The islander
+staggered backward with his assailant pressing close against him. In
+their struggle both men had for the moment forgotten the overhanging
+ledge.
+
+[Illustration: Both men had forgotten the overhanging ledge]
+
+Gregory remembered it too late. Red-beard's arms were still about him.
+Suddenly he felt the dead weight of the islander's body. As he strove to
+break the man's hold he tottered on the brink of the ledge. He felt
+himself being dragged downward. Before his eyes flashed the rock-dappled
+waters of the cove. His only chance lay in clearing the rocks below.
+His knees straightened with a jerk. Shoving his body outward, he
+plunged over the ledge with the islander clinging to him.
+
+The warning scream died on Dickie Lang's lips as she ran toward them.
+Checking her steps on the edge of the rocks overlooking the water, she
+stared at the ever-widening circles which rippled the water and the
+jagged rocks which shone ominously dark beneath the surface. She
+followed the center of the ripples mechanically. Thank God, they had hit
+in a clear spot. But what chance would a man have throttled like that by
+another?
+
+The cool rush of air on his throbbing face gave place to a cooler one as
+the waters closed over Kenneth Gregory's head. He felt his body sinking
+like a stone. The arms about his body tightened. The blood pounded to
+his brain. To his mind flashed stories of swimmers who had been drowned
+by women with the fatal strangle-hold. He realized sharply that he was
+held by no woman, but a red-bearded giant, insane through fear,
+incapable of reason. Whatever he did must be done at once.
+
+With an effort which left his lungs pressing hard against his ribs he
+freed an arm and worked it upward until he felt the matted hair of the
+islander's beard. From there it was only a span to the throat. That was
+what he must reach. The throat. The words raced through his brain. The
+throat. He must shut down on that and hang. His groping fingers searched
+for the elusive organ. Perhaps Red-beard had no throat. The
+grotesqueness of the idea caused him to want to laugh. It didn't matter
+much after all. Not when.... There it was. He had found it at last. His
+fingers stiffened and slid on the slippery flesh. Then they fastened,
+tightened and hung.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Good God, would they never come up? Dickie searched the faintly dimpled
+waters from her commanding elevation, but her closest scrutiny revealed
+no sign of the men beneath the surface. Kenneth Gregory was drowned as
+his father had been drowned at Diablo. So intent was the girl upon her
+examination of the water that she failed to see a limping figure emerge
+cautiously from behind a pile of rocks and drop into a near-by crevice.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Under the steady pressure of his fingers, Gregory felt the body of the
+islander relax. Then he became conscious in a vague sort of way, of
+movement. They were rising to the surface or sinking lower to the
+bottom. Why couldn't he tell which? He freed his legs from the inert
+form which twined itself about him, and kicked weakly. The red-bearded
+man slipped from him at the effort and he narrowly escaped losing his
+hold upon his throat. He kicked again. If he could only get one gulp of
+air he could make it. In spite of the ever-increasing pressure on his
+lungs he found himself getting sleepy. He was tired, worn out. If he
+could only fill his lungs with something to stop that dull pain, he
+could go to sleep and rest.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Dickie Lang saw the dark blot of the two figures as they neared the
+surface. Then she thought of the rope in her hand. She could weigh it
+with the wrench and throw it from where she stood. Uncoiling it hastily,
+she measured the distance. Too far, she realized bitterly. She looked to
+the water's edge. The distance would be shorter from there. Shoving the
+wrench into her pocket and throwing the rope loosely about her neck, she
+crawled over the ledge and climbed downward.
+
+The ledge dipped sharply under the overhanging surface and extended
+shoreward in a narrow shelf, carpeted by kelp and washed by the sea.
+Around that big boulder would be the best place. From there she could
+throw the rope to good advantage. She was about to shout encouragement
+when she heard the sharp splash of a stone falling into the water from
+the cliff. Shrinking closer to the rocks, she listened. Then crept
+silently on.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Air to breathe at last! Gregory lay passive on the surface, content to
+gulp it in in huge mouthfuls. Nothing else mattered now. His head
+throbbed painfully and his eyeballs burned in their sockets. But he had
+air. And that was enough. As the pressure of blood on his brain
+lessened, he became conscious of the fact that he was still gripping the
+islander's throat. He released his fingers and the big head tilted
+forward until it rested face down on the water. With a start Gregory
+realized that the air had come too late for Red-beard. He must get the
+man ashore at once.
+
+He turned his head slowly and saw the rock ledge only a few feet away.
+By that big overhanging boulder would be the place to land. There he
+could crawl up on the soft kelp and rest. Rolling the unconscious man to
+his back, he swam slowly for the ledge.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Dickie reached the base of the projecting rock and wedging her slender
+body into a small fissure, peered cautiously through the cleft. So close
+that she could almost touch him, alert and motionless, stood the
+weasel-faced man. His small eyes were fixed upon the water. The hand
+which was nearest her held a knife.
+
+Wriggling from the crevice she hastily retraced her steps. No use trying
+to squeeze through there. She would be in full view before she would
+have a chance. Flashing a glance at the rugged surface of the boulder,
+she began to climb.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was farther to the ledge than he thought. Something was the matter
+with his legs. His arms had no strength. They had almost ceased to
+function. A sharp pain gripped his side and tore downward through his
+body. Still Gregory swam on. In another moment he could reach out and
+grip the kelp with his hand. He closed his eyes and swam mechanically.
+At length his extended fingers touched the sea-grass which fringed the
+ledge. Twining them eagerly about it, he pulled his aching body closer
+and rested, clinging to the rocks.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Hand over hand Dickie Lang crawled upward and outward until she could
+see the water lapping at the ledge beneath. From her vantage point she
+could see Gregory swimming on with closed eyes in the direction of the
+rocks. His limbs were moving slowly and his face was drawn with pain.
+Still he floundered on. Straight for the kelp-covered ledge--and
+Weasel-face.
+
+A sharp turn in the rocky pathway put the man in full view, only a few
+feet below. Sheltered from sight of the struggling figure in the water,
+he waited in silence.
+
+If she called out to warn Gregory to seek a new landing-place it was
+doubtful if he could make the beach in his exhausted condition. Such a
+course, too, would make her presence known to the hatchet-faced man who
+as yet had not observed her. No, it was better to take the man unawares.
+She thought of the rope. Perhaps she could loop it over his head. She
+gave up the idea at once. It could only fail. Jamming her hands into her
+pockets, her fingers closed on the wrench. She jerked it out and
+balanced it in her hand. A feeling of confidence surged over her. She
+couldn't miss him from where she stood. Her pastime of flinging stones
+at the gulls when a child would stand her in good stead now. If the man
+looked up, she would throw before he could recover from his surprise.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Dragging his tired body wearily from the water, Gregory pulled his
+unconscious companion after him. As he stretched the islander at full
+length on the soft kelp and knelt over him, he caught sight of a man's
+foot protruding from behind a rock.
+
+Gregory stumbled to his feet. At the same instant he heard the sound of
+a muffled blow. A small wrench clattered to the rocks and fell with a
+splash into a pool of water.
+
+"I knew I could get him," a girlish voice called from above. Dickie Lang
+jumped down with shining eyes and made her way toward him. "Buck up," he
+heard her say. But the voice trailed away into silence.
+
+When he regained consciousness, the girl was bending over him, rubbing
+his numbed limbs and slapping his cold flesh violently.
+
+"You'll be all right in a minute," she said. "Don't try to talk now. Lie
+still and rest. Feel better?"
+
+He nodded. As he moved his head he noticed the two figures lying close
+beside him. Noting the questioning look in his eyes, Dickie explained:
+
+"They're all right or will be in a little while. I'm looking after them.
+When they come to, I'm going to tie them up." She flourished a small
+coil of rope.
+
+As his strength returned Gregory began to pick up the loose threads.
+"Howard?" he asked.
+
+She shook her head. "Don't know where he is. Couldn't see him. Don't
+worry. Chances are he's all right. He's hard as nails. When you can walk
+we'll go and look for him."
+
+They found the fisherman huddled against the rocks at the bottom of the
+small crevice. Close by his side lay the scar-faced islander. Both men
+were unconscious.
+
+Gregory examined Howard carefully.
+
+"His leg is broken," he announced. "And he's pretty well bruised up. He
+must have got an awful jolt when he fell on these rocks." Jumping up, he
+exclaimed: "I'll go and get something for splints," he said. "Make him
+as comfortable as you can."
+
+When he returned Dickie noticed he carried a heavy oar which he had
+fashioned into a rude crutch, a number of small strips of wood and a
+piece of an old blanket.
+
+"Found them on the _Petrel_," he said as he set to work.
+
+Dickie assisted Gregory in caring for the wounded man. Her respect for
+the young man increased as she noted the skilful manner with which he
+worked. Soon Howard's leg was set and after a time he opened his eyes
+and slowly regained consciousness. The sun was high overhead when they
+were able to move the injured men. While Howard rested for a moment on
+the ledge, Gregory carried the unconscious form of the other man to the
+soft sea-grass and stretched him at full length. Then he thought of the
+two men they had left on the narrow shelf by the sea.
+
+"I'd better have a look at Red-beard and the other fellow," he said
+suddenly. "The water might come in there and wash them off."
+
+Dickie nodded. "I'll stay here," she said, and Gregory hurried off.
+
+When he came back he shook his head. "Gone," he announced.
+
+"Washed off?"
+
+"Don't think so. The water hadn't quite got to where we left them. I
+guess they sneaked."
+
+Dickie's eyes searched the sea while he spoke.
+
+"I can't understand what is keeping the boys from the _Curlew_," she
+said. "We'd better get Tom aboard the _Petrel_ where we can make him
+more comfortable. Better bring the other fellow too. There's some whisky
+on the boat unless those devils have stolen it too. Hello, what's that?"
+
+The quiet was broken by the sharp clatter of horses' hoofs. Looking in
+the direction of the sound, Gregory saw a number of horsemen riding over
+the crest of the bluff overlooking the cove.
+
+The fisherman glanced toward the dory which lay on the rocks at the
+extreme end of the ledge.
+
+"Better beat it," he suggested.
+
+Dickie Lang shook her head stubbornly. "No," she said. "We'll leave that
+man here and the rest of us will get aboard. The _Petrel's_ on tide land
+and I'll be damned if any one's going to bluff me out."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+A WARNING
+
+
+From the _Petrel's_ sloping deck they saw the horsemen appear in bold
+silhouette against the sky-line. Swinging from their saddles they walked
+to meet a white-shirted rider who galloped over the ridge and drew rein
+among them.
+
+The newcomer remained astride his horse. Resting an arm on the horn of
+his saddle, he stared into the little cove through his binoculars.
+Satisfied apparently by what he saw, he dismounted and walked rapidly
+toward the trail leading to the beach, the men following after him. As
+they took their way down the cliff Gregory noticed that some of the men
+carried rifles. When they reached the beach the white-shirted man walked
+on alone, and without a backward glance, traversed the rocks in the
+direction of the wreck.
+
+"He walks like a king," commented Dickie Lang. "I wonder if that is
+Bandrist."
+
+Gregory noted the clean-cut figure of the stranger carefully. The man
+was about his own height though of slighter build, the spareness of his
+figure being emphasized by the close-fitting riding-trousers and the
+thin silk shirt which fluttered about him as he strode along. The
+fair-haired stranger stopped abruptly when he reached the _Petrel's_
+side. Flinging an arm upward with a careless gesture, and looking
+straight at the girl, he said quietly:
+
+"I am unarmed. May I come aboard your vessel?"
+
+Only the slightest trace of the foreigner was discernible in his speech.
+
+Dickie Lang nodded. "Come ahead," she said. "Whoever you are, you can
+speak English at least."
+
+The visitor smiled as he caught the mast-stay and drew himself
+gracefully over the rail.
+
+"I am Leo Bandrist," he introduced. "I fear my men have caused you some
+annoyance. I am sorry."
+
+Dickie rehearsed the incidents leading up to the trouble with the
+natives and when she had concluded, Bandrist's forehead wrinkled in a
+frown.
+
+"I am very sorry," he repeated. "My men, you see, are very stupid. Very
+ignorant. They understand but little English. Then, too, I have been
+annoyed by others. You see, I have many sheep and wild goats upon the
+island. Hunters come to shoot the goats, but they often mistake my sheep
+for them. Fishermen also have caused me great trouble. I have fenced my
+lands to keep them out; put up the signs the law tells me I must to
+protect myself. But no, they disregard my rights. So I give my men
+instructions to keep them out. When my rangers are opposed they grow
+ugly. One of them tells me that one of your number began the attack.
+That angered them, you see, and they fought back. It was but natural.
+However, I am sorry. I trust that none of your party has been seriously
+injured."
+
+"Small thanks to you," Dickie snapped. "Your men tried hard enough to
+commit murder." Nodding in the direction of the unconscious islander,
+she added: "There's one of your outfit stretched out over there. Another
+was half-drowned. The third tried to knife Mr. Gregory. I hit him in the
+head with a monkey-wrench. They both got away or were washed off the
+ledge."
+
+Bandrist shot a quick glance at Gregory as the girl mentioned the
+cannery owner's name. At the girl's reference to her part in the affair
+his eyes lighted with interest. Then the frown came again to his face.
+
+"That is the trouble," he said quickly. "My men do not understand. They
+know only one way to fight. That is to win. If you will permit me, I
+shall summon the others to care for their companion."
+
+He waited for the girl's consent. Then he waved his hand to the men on
+the beach. When they were within ear-shot, Bandrist addressed them
+rapidly, nodding toward the spot indicated by Dickie Lang. As the men
+hurried away, he explained:
+
+"They come to me from many countries. Some of them are bad and cause me
+much trouble. It is so lonesome out here that I can not keep good men. I
+tell my fence-riders only to keep people away so that they will not kill
+my sheep. Some of them I arm as you see, because those who hunt also
+carry guns and are sometimes ugly."
+
+He spread out his slender fingers apologetically.
+
+"Again I am sorry," he said. "If you desire to work now I will see that
+you are undisturbed, if you will promise to leave the island when you
+are through. You see I do not want any more trouble," he concluded with
+frank emphasis. "My men will be very angry when they find their wounded
+comrade. Sometimes it is difficult for me to restrain them."
+
+The excited jargon of the islanders as they came upon their disabled
+fellow confirmed the truth of his words. Jabbering to themselves, and
+casting sullen glances in the direction of the _Petrel_, they carried
+the man over the ledge to the beach.
+
+"Mr. Bandrist," said Dickie clearly. "I've as much right to be here as
+you have. You can't legally keep me from taking the engine out of this
+boat. She's on tide and you haven't any more claim to that than I have.
+You know that as well as I do. I'm going to take my time. When I get
+through, I'll go. And not before. If you are on the square you'll stay
+here until I do. We don't want trouble any more than you do. But we're
+not going to be bluffed out on this deal or any other."
+
+Bandrist's eyes shone with unconcealed admiration. He inclined his head
+in response to her suggestion and exclaimed: "I shall be only too glad
+to remain here until you are ready to leave."
+
+Dickie Lang turned quickly to Howard. "You keep off your feet, Tom," she
+said. "I might as well start in. The boys from the _Curlew_ ought to
+have been here long before this."
+
+Gregory pressed forward. "Tell me what to do," he said.
+
+The girl regarded him approvingly. "You can loosen the stud-bolts on the
+motor first. Come on," she said. "I'll show you."
+
+Bandrist followed after them. "May I help?" he asked.
+
+She shook her head with decision. "Two's as many as can conveniently
+work around the engine," she answered.
+
+The work of tearing down the motor began at once. Gregory wore the skin
+from his knuckles in loosening the stud-bolts while Howard instructed
+him from the doorway how to take off the carburetor and rip up the
+feed-line. As they worked the girl made a rapid survey of the parts she
+desired to salvage.
+
+"Some more of your friends?"
+
+Bandrist pointed seaward where a dory was rounding the point and heading
+shoreward.
+
+The girl acknowledged his words with a curt nod.
+
+"Here come the boys from the _Curlew_," she announced.
+
+When the landing party reached the _Petrel's_ side, Jones and Sorenson
+stared in silence at the white-shirted man leaning against the rail.
+
+"Got things fixed up, Jones? You were a long time coming."
+
+The skipper of the _Curlew_ climbed aboard before replying. Drawing the
+girl to one side, he said quietly: "Thing's pretty well shot, miss. Took
+her down and found this."
+
+He extended a blackened handkerchief covered with fine dust. Dickie Lang
+examined it carefully, rubbing the particles of black grit between her
+fingers.
+
+"Emery dust?"
+
+Jones nodded. "She's full of it," he answered. "Don't dare and start her
+up. She'd cut herself to pieces."
+
+Silently regarding the blackened particles, the girl asked: "Carlin was
+with you yesterday you said, didn't you?"
+
+"Yes. Him and Jacobs."
+
+"Carlin's enough. I knew he was a dub. But I didn't think he had brains
+enough to be a crook. I know now. Well, we've got enough trouble right
+here for a while without bothering about your boat. You rip up the motor
+and Sorenson and Mr. Gregory can strip the deck. We've got to hustle. It
+will begin to rough up soon. Then we'll have to run with what we have.
+She'll break up on the flood by the looks of things."
+
+Pausing for a moment to partake of a meager lunch which Dickie
+discovered had been overlooked by the robber of the _Petrel_, all hands
+turned again to the work of salvaging the motor.
+
+Through the long afternoon they worked in silence. As Gregory stripped
+the iron chaulks from the deck and removed the stays, he noticed that
+Bandrist leaned idly against the rail with his blue eyes following the
+movements of Dickie Lang with great interest. Once, before Gregory could
+surmise his purpose, he sprang to the girl's side and assisted her with
+a piece of shaft and the ease with which he handled the heavy brass
+caused the young man to marvel.
+
+A queer specimen of man was Bandrist, he reflected, to be marooned in
+such a spot as this. Gregory's work gave him a chance to study the
+islander without being observed. He was a figure who merited more than a
+passing glance. He would challenge attention in any environment. While
+he twisted the galvanized turn-buckles, rusted by the salt-air, Gregory
+appraised the man carefully.
+
+Trained to the minute and hard as nails, he catalogued the slender
+figure. The long smooth-lying muscles were those of an athlete. He could
+see them rippling at the open-throat and on the islander's wrist when he
+raised his arm. The features too were worthy of notice. Line by line he
+studied them. From the high forehead which bulged over the clear blue
+eyes, to the delicately ovaled chin. The face was emotionless. Only the
+curve of the thin lips showed the man beneath the mask. The lips were
+cruel as death.
+
+The tall crags cast their irregular shadows athwart the cove and a
+sudden puff of wind, which had freshened as the day wore on, ruffled the
+quiet waters and caused them to slap angrily at the base of the ledge.
+Dickie Lang cast a weather-eye to seaward and shook her head.
+
+"Time we were getting in the clear, boys," she said. "The tide's
+beginning to set in strong and the breeze is freshening. We've got about
+all we dare fool with. I want to get clear of the Diablo coast before
+the fog drifts any closer."
+
+The fishermen issued from the engine-house at her words and began to
+gather up the parts of the dissembled motor and carry them to the
+waiting skiffs. Then they assisted Howard to the dory. In a few moments
+they were ready to shove off. Dickie stepped into the dory of the
+_Pelican_ which Jones shoved into the water.
+
+"I want to get Tom to the launch and have her ready to get under way,"
+she explained to Gregory. "Will you stay and help Sorenson load the rest
+of the motor?"
+
+Gregory nodded and set to work. Bandrist's eyes followed the departing
+skiff until it disappeared around the point. Then he motioned Gregory to
+one side and began to speak: "Do not let her come out here again," he
+said in a low voice. "Diablo is not a safe place for fishermen, much
+less a woman. My men will not forget you. I was able to control them
+to-day. The next time I might not be so fortunate."
+
+However well meant the warning might have been, it rankled in Gregory's
+breast. He felt his instinctive dislike of Bandrist grow with the man's
+words. Meeting the islander's eyes squarely, he said in a voice which
+only Bandrist could hear:
+
+"If it is necessary for us to come to Diablo again, Mr. Bandrist, we
+will come. If you are unable to handle your men, that will be up to
+you."
+
+For a moment the two men appraised each other in silence. Then Gregory
+turned and walked to the waiting dory.
+
+In the purpling dusk they embarked from Diablo and sped across the
+rippling water to the launch which lay in the offing. Looking back from
+the stern-seat, Gregory saw the man on the ledge gazing after them with
+folded arms.
+
+On the deck of the _Pelican_ the girl was issuing hasty orders for the
+return to the mainland.
+
+"Kick her over, Jones. Johnson, stand by the hook. Here comes the other
+skiff. Get your stuff aboard, Sorenson, as quick as you can," she called
+to the approaching dory, "and swing the boat on deck. We'll beat it out
+of here and take the _Curlew_ in tow. Make it lively, boys. We've got to
+be under way."
+
+Swinging wide of the headland the _Pelican_ plunged into the trough of
+the swell and skirting the coast raced on to pick up the disabled
+_Curlew_. Dickie Lang looked back at the dim outline of the cliffs as
+they shadowed the sea.
+
+"Poor little _Pete_," she exclaimed softly. "It's tough. But it can't be
+helped."
+
+Gregory alone heard her words.
+
+"It sure is," he said, feeling that the words were wholly inadequate.
+"And I'm mighty sorry," he added.
+
+The girl started. "I guess I was thinking aloud," she said. "I didn't
+know you heard." She set her lips together. "It's all in the game, I
+know," she went on, "but no one but me knows how I hate to lose the
+little _Petrel_."
+
+When they picked up the _Curlew_ the fitful wind died suddenly and the
+air grew heavy with moisture. The white clouds which scurried across the
+face of the heavens dropped lower and massing themselves together
+obscured the stars. Piloting the _Pelican_ and her tow safely to the
+high seas, the girl relinquished the wheel to Johnson with a sigh of
+relief.
+
+"I'll rustle something to eat, Bill," she said. "We'll stand two-hour
+watches. I'll take her next. I want to see if there is anything I can do
+for Tom. I'll be in the cabin. Call me if you sight anything or it gets
+thicker."
+
+Turning to Gregory, she exclaimed: "The next thing is to eat. I'm
+starved myself, and I'll bet you're worse."
+
+Repairing to the cabin where the big fisherman was already asleep on the
+bunk, they ate their first real meal of the day in silence. There was
+much that they could have talked about, but one does not follow the sea
+long without learning that opportunities to eat are sometimes golden,
+and not lightly to be passed over or interfered with by conversation. It
+was not until the last morsel of food had been consumed, therefore, that
+Gregory made an effort to voice his thoughts.
+
+"What do you think of Bandrist?" he asked suddenly.
+
+The girl started, surprised that they should both be thinking of the
+same man. Her forehead wrinkled slowly as she answered:
+
+"I think he's a crook. I don't know why exactly, but I just do. He's too
+smooth. Too well educated for a sheep-man. He's up to something at
+Diablo. Don't know what. Don't know that it is any of my business at
+that. But I don't like him."
+
+"Neither do I," Gregory admitted. "I sized him up as a mighty clever
+man. He has a hard outfit out there and he pretends he can't control
+them. That's the bunk. Did you notice how they took orders from him
+without even talking back?"
+
+"Yes. And he had most of them armed. With orders to keep people off of
+the island. Why?" she asked suddenly. "I don't believe it's on account
+of the sheep."
+
+Gregory shook his head emphatically.
+
+"That was bunk too," he said. "They knew we were not trying to hunt. I
+suppose they did get pretty sore when we roughed it with them, but that
+didn't give them any license to pull their knives and try to carve us
+up. That crazy fool would have had me in another minute if it hadn't
+been for you."
+
+Dickie sought to minimize her part in the affair.
+
+"I didn't do much," she said. "I was just lucky. You did all of the hard
+work. I thought you were never coming up."
+
+"You were dead game," Gregory cut in. "You saved me from that fellow's
+knife and you know it."
+
+Dickie Lang made no reply but sat with her arms resting on the
+cabin-table, looking off into space. Again she saw herself huddled
+against the rocks, looking down into the sunlit water of the cove,
+waiting for the men to come to the surface. What a fight Gregory must
+have had to have freed himself from that strangle-hold and save the life
+of the other man as well as his own. How skilfully he had worked over
+Howard. He seemed to know just what to do. She raised her head sharply.
+Not given to living in the past, she wondered why her mind had gone
+wool-gathering. Perhaps it was because she was beginning to realize that
+this man was a man among men. And real men were scarce. He was speaking
+again.
+
+"There's something wrong at Diablo. I'd give a lot to find out what it
+is."
+
+"It would cost a lot," she answered soberly. "And what business is it of
+ours? Dad used to say that monkeying with other people's affairs was a
+luxury he never could afford."
+
+"But if they interfere with fishing, it is some of our business."
+
+"Yes, but do they?"
+
+"I don't know. That is, not yet," he was forced to admit.
+
+"Neither do I. Until I do, I'm not looking for any more trouble than I
+can see ahead right now."
+
+Silence for several moments. Then, from the girl:
+
+"Besides, you couldn't find out anything. The fishermen are scared stiff
+of Diablo as it is. When this gets around, they'll be even worse.
+They're not looking for more excitement. They have enough."
+
+To Gregory's mind recurred his plan of manning the girl's boats. Here
+was an opportunity to justify it.
+
+"The bunch I'm figuring on wouldn't be afraid of it," he said. "In fact
+I think they would kind of enjoy finding out."
+
+Dickie smiled. "Aren't you speaking two words for yourself?" she asked.
+
+He smiled too. "I'll admit I have some curiosity," he answered.
+
+The girl laughed. "You've got into the habit of fighting," she retorted.
+"But the war is over now."
+
+"Maybe you're right. But at Legonia I've an idea it has just begun."
+
+It was just what she would have had him say. What she would have said
+herself if she had spoken her mind. She liked a man who wasn't afraid.
+They were the kind one could tie to. Gregory's proposal again assailed
+her. It had its advantages. She would think it over while she was at the
+wheel.
+
+"Boat off starboard quarter," a gruff voice announced from the doorway.
+
+Dickie Lang sprang to her feet and hurried on deck with Gregory
+following close behind. From the gray gloom came the sharp exhaust of a
+high-powered motor, running at top speed. As they looked in the
+direction of the sound, which was fast changing to an angry roar, the
+shifting wall of filmy fog was pierced by a flash of green.
+
+"Mascola!"
+
+Gregory was barely able to catch the girl's words above the uproar of
+the gatlin-like exhaust. The next instant the green light flashed by and
+was swallowed up in the gloom.
+
+"I wonder what he's doing out here running like that?" Dickie mused.
+
+"How do you know who it was?"
+
+She laughed. "There's only one boat anywhere around here with an exhaust
+like that," she answered. "That's the _Fuor d'Italia_. She's the fastest
+craft in southern waters of her kind. And no one ever runs her but
+Mascola."
+
+Gregory continued to listen to the rapid-fire exhaust as it died away in
+the distance. Then he pictured himself driving the trim craft, plunging
+through the waves and hurling the spray into his face as he raced on.
+Recalled to himself by the slow-moving _Pelican_ burdened by her tow, he
+reflected that speed sometimes was everything. If he was going to oppose
+Mascola he would have to get there first. Dickie was speaking again.
+
+"Joe Barrows built her up at Port Angeles. Mascola hasn't had her very
+long and he won't have her much longer if he pounds her like that. I
+wonder what he's going out to Diablo for in such a hurry."
+
+Gregory could not answer. But he made up his mind if he was ever going
+to find out, he would have to have a faster boat than the _Fuor
+d'Italia_. Perhaps Joe Barrows could help him out.
+
+Through the long night the _Pelican_ crept into the thickening fog with
+the disabled _Curlew_. Daybreak found them at the entrance to Crescent
+Bay. When they reached the Lang docks the masts of the fishing-fleet
+could be dimly discerned through the shifting mist like a forest of
+bare-trunked trees.
+
+Dickie frowned.
+
+"The boys are late getting out," she observed. "I wonder what's the
+matter."
+
+As they drew alongside the wharf it was evident that something unusual
+was in the air. The pier was thronged with fishermen, gathered together
+in little groups, leaning idly against the empty fish-boxes. At the
+landing party's approach the low hum of conversation died away into a
+faint murmur. A solitary figure, standing apart from the others, hurried
+forward to meet the girl as she walked up the gangway.
+
+"Hello, Jack. What's the trouble?"
+
+McCoy nodded in the direction of the silent fishermen. "Trouble enough,"
+he whispered. "I'm mighty glad you've come, Dick. There's a strike on.
+Carlin's got them all riled up and there's hell to pay."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+THE STRIKE
+
+
+A strike at this of all times! And Pete Carlin at the bottom of it! With
+her nerves frayed raw by two nights of sleepless vigil and the memory of
+the _Curlew's_ disabled motor rankling within her, Dickie Lang brushed
+by a group of men and confronted a bullet-headed man in a loose gray
+sweater.
+
+"Carlin," she said clearly in a voice which all could hear, "you're
+fired. You're a crook. If you'd work the clock around I wouldn't have
+you on the job."
+
+Turning to the fishermen she rapidly related the incident of the finding
+of the emery-dust in the _Curlew's_ motor.
+
+"It's a lie," Carlin interrupted, "I don't----"
+
+"It's the truth, Pete Carlin, and you know it."
+
+Dickie moved closer to Carlin and her eyes met his. "You can't look me
+in the eye and deny it," she challenged. As the man said nothing, she
+flashed: "Get off my dock while you're still able to walk. If I was a
+man I'd knock you down."
+
+The man grinned but did not move.
+
+"But you ain't," he retorted. "I reckon I ain't goin' to have no fool
+girl tell me where to head in at. I reckon I----"
+
+A heavy hand fell on his shoulder and his sentence remained unfinished.
+Gregory's eyes were snapping close to Carlin's.
+
+"Beat it," he said, "while the trail's open."
+
+Carlin flashed a glance over his shoulder at the fishermen who stood
+looking on in stoical silence. Then he decided to go. Mumbling to
+himself, he turned sullenly from the men about him and walked slowly
+down the dock.
+
+Dickie Lang faced the silent fishermen.
+
+"Now, boys, what is it? I'll hear what you've got to say. But I won't
+have any dealings with a crook."
+
+The men about her shuffled their feet and drew closer. Then a man in a
+faded plaid jumper detached himself from the others and began to speak.
+
+"We ain't got nothin' against you, Miss Lang," he began uncertainly.
+"But we've all got to look out for ourselves. We got families and folks
+dependin' on us. Livin' 's out of sight. So is clothes and everything.
+We----"
+
+"What's your proposition, Blagg?"
+
+The fisherman hesitated at the directness of the question. Then he
+recited: "Straight time. Eight-hour day for six dollars. Double money
+for overtime and Sundays."
+
+Dickie started at the demand. Carlin had done his work well to set such
+a limit as that. She wondered how far the seeds of discontent had
+spread among the others. As her eye traveled over the silent groups,
+Blagg went on:
+
+"You see, miss, as I say we got families and the women-folks----"
+
+"Don't blame the women, Joe," interrupted the girl. "If they got half of
+what the saloons leave they'd have no kick coming. I'll bet they're not
+back of this. You've been listening to a half-baked fool who couldn't
+make a living if dollars grew on trees. All Pete Carlin can do is talk.
+You boys know he isn't a fisherman."
+
+She stepped closer and her voice dropped to a conversational tone. "It
+just isn't in the business, boys. If I promised to pay those wages I
+couldn't do it. I'd be broke with the first run of bad luck and you know
+it as well as I do, if you'd stop to think. The man doesn't live who can
+pay that around here and get out."
+
+Blagg smiled knowingly at the fishermen.
+
+"You're wrong, miss," he said. "We've already got the offer for a job at
+them terms."
+
+"Not here?"
+
+He nodded. "Right here in town. We won't have to move nor nothin'."
+Watching the effect of his words upon the girl, he went on, carried away
+by the importance of his announcement. "That's why we're puttin' it up
+to you. You've always shot pretty square with us. But money talks, and
+we all got to look out for Number One. I reckon none of the boys is
+honein' to go to work for a furrinor, but we all knows his money's good
+as yours and that's what counts."
+
+"You mean you're going to ditch me for Mascola?"
+
+Blagg dropped his eyes to the planks of the wharf before the girl's
+steady gaze.
+
+"We don't aim to ditch nobody," he said awkwardly. "But we got to live.
+The dago's offered us six day straight with double for overtime and
+Sundays. We ain't decided yet. We waited to give you a chance."
+
+Dickie Lang listened quietly, her eyes roaming among the knots of silent
+fishermen. Some she noticed stood close and as their spokesman went on,
+shuffled closer. Others held aloof. When Blagg had concluded, she began
+to speak in a voice which carried to the detached groups of men standing
+in the back row.
+
+"I'm not going to say much. But what I do say I want it to sink in. Come
+up closer all of you where we can see one another."
+
+When the fishermen ranged themselves about her, she looked hard into
+their weather-beaten faces and went on earnestly: "Boys, you've known me
+since I was a kid. Most of you knew my dad. If you did, you knew a man.
+He had to fight hard for a living. But he shot square every foot of the
+way. Some of you were here when he came."
+
+She singled out a few of the older men and spoke directly to them: "Do
+you think you'd be here now if it hadn't been for Bill Lang? What were
+the Russians and Austrians doing to you when he came? You were all down
+on your uppers and didn't know where your next meal was coming from. Who
+was it that took up your fight? Who backed you with boats and gear and
+taught you how to fish so you could hold your own against the outsiders?
+You know without my telling you."
+
+Some of the older fishermen dropped their eyes to the rough board planks
+at the girl's words. There was no doubt that Lang had been square. But
+as Blagg had pointed out, a man had to look out for himself.
+
+"You think that hasn't anything to do with your quitting me to get more
+money? All right. I'll show you that it has. Let me ask you some
+questions. What is Mascola paying his own fishermen? Why should he pay
+you fellows twice that much? Does he think you'll rob more traps, lay
+round more nets and run more men off the beach with his seine? Why
+should he pay you six dollars when he can load up with a gang that'll do
+what he says for three? Is that business?"
+
+She paused and her lips compressed in a straight line as she went on:
+"You can answer those questions just as well as I can. You know what
+Mascola's game is. He thinks he's going to put me out of business. He's
+trying to crowd me off the sea. What do you suppose will become of you
+if he makes good? How long will you get that six dollars a day with the
+Lang fleet out of commission? You've been fighting his men for a square
+deal ever since you came here. And now you're figuring on helping them
+run you out of your own town."
+
+Blagg noticed that several of the men were falling back and whispering
+among themselves. Scenting signs of a break among his ranks, he felt it
+was up to him to say something. Well, he had his trump card yet to play.
+
+"We ain't such fools as you think," he said. "We ain't gone at this
+thing without considering pretty careful and gettin' good advice. Last
+night some of us had a meetin' and talked things over. Mr. Rock was
+there and he give us some mighty good advice. He says to the boys that
+it was every feller for himself and----"
+
+"Rock's got a mortgage on your house, hasn't he, Joe?"
+
+Blagg flushed beneath his tan.
+
+"I reckon that ain't got nothing to do with it if he has," he
+challenged. "And you understand I ain't even sayin' he has. But he's a
+business man."
+
+"And a hypocrite," supplemented Dickie Lang. "Nobody knows that any
+better than I. He lied to me and tried to flim-flam me out of my boats
+before my dad was buried a week. If I'd fallen for it he would have had
+me right where he's got you, Joe. But I didn't. And when he found out I
+was going to stick to you boys, he called me a fool and said no white
+man could compete against Mascola's men."
+
+As she paused for breath, Gregory saw Tom Howard hobbling through the
+crowd, speaking in low tones with the fishermen.
+
+"One minute more and I'm through," the girl concluded. "We're up against
+a hard fight here at Legonia. A fight for Americans to fish their own
+waters. Sounds foolish, but you know it's the truth. When my father and
+Mr. Gregory were drowned off Diablo, Mascola thought he had us beaten.
+Rock thought so, too. But I'm telling you we're going to fool them both.
+There's something wrong around here, boys, when we can't get a
+fifty-fifty break on our own coast. And we're going to find out what it
+is."
+
+Seeing that she had the ear of the men at last, she walked closer.
+
+"Listen, boys, I've got a big proposition to offer you. One that will
+beat Mascola's like an ace beats a deuce. Because this one is on the
+square."
+
+The fishermen crowded closer while she went on:
+
+"You know what we've been up against here for years to get good help.
+You boys have been working short-handed most of the time. Doing more
+work than it was up to you to do. I've got a plan now to get all the men
+you want. Good men too. Fellows who have been tried out, red-blooded
+men. Fighters! I want you men to train them. Show them how to fish. In a
+little while they'll be doing all the work and I'll pay you four dollars
+a day straight time with a dollar a day more if you stick through the
+season. But better than that I'll give you a share in the profits of
+not only my own business, but the Legonia Fish Cannery as well."
+
+Gregory gulped. It was Dickie's voice all right. But the words were his
+own. There was some mistake somewhere. He strove to regain control of
+his scattered senses as Blagg burst out:
+
+"You're figurin' to start somethin' you can't finish, ain't you? You
+ain't bought the cannery already, have you?"
+
+"Don't you worry about that, Blagg. I know what I'm talking about. Mr.
+Gregory and I are partners on this deal."
+
+Blagg was taken back by the girl's announcement. Almost as much so as
+Gregory himself.
+
+"Suppose there ain't no profits?" put in another fisherman.
+
+"That's your lookout as well as mine." Again the girl took Gregory's
+words and went on: "But there will be. I'm going to get a bunch of
+ex-navy men down here that mean business. They won't let Mascola, Rock
+or anybody else bluff them off the sea. All they want is a chance to
+learn the game. You boys can teach it to them right."
+
+Blagg stepped back and began to whisper to the men about him. The other
+fishermen looked at one another and listened for Bill Lang's girl to go
+on:
+
+"You fellows all know the advantage it gives you to have enough boats
+and men. If you break down and get into any trouble, it's pretty good to
+have somebody standing by to give you a hand. And you know that Mascola
+knows how to make trouble."
+
+Turning to the older men, some of whom had already begun to feel their
+joints stiffening with rheumatism, she said: "Fishing's a hard game,
+boys, for the best of us. And it doesn't get any easier as we get older.
+There's a lot of you who will have to go into dry-dock before long and
+get patched up. And there's some that can't afford to lay up. You've
+been working with your hands too long. You've got to ease up and use
+your brains. That's what I want to hire now. These young fellows are
+eager to help you. It will be up to you to show them what to do."
+
+Could this be the girl who had angrily announced that she intended to
+run her business in her own way? Gregory could only stare at Dickie
+Lang. So far, she had not even included him as being a partner to the
+idea, save by her pledge of the profits of his cannery. Surely she would
+explain her sudden change of heart. Listening intently, he heard her
+conclude:
+
+"Think it over, boys. It's a chance that may never come again. If there
+are any questions you'd like to ask, shoot."
+
+Blagg noted that her words were having a marked effect upon the silent
+fishermen. Seeking to stem the tide of the reaction which he felt was
+setting in against him, he began to make objections.
+
+Dickie Lang met his arguments with painstaking explanations and the
+objections gradually became fewer, simmering down into more or less
+intelligent questions. Gregory noticed that the fishermen began to
+retire and clustered together in little groups while they talked
+earnestly among themselves. Still there came no explanation from the
+girl. She was championing his ideas as if they had been her own
+cherished plans.
+
+At length the various knots of men drew further apart and faced each
+other in two well-marked divisions. To the left stood Joe Blagg, about
+him clustering the younger and more radical element of the fishing
+colony. On the right the property-owners and heads of families for the
+most part, drew closer to Big Jack Stuss, their acknowledged leader.
+
+Dickie Lang regarded the two factions carefully, striving to count their
+ranks. Each was about evenly divided, she figured, with Big Jack's
+constituency slightly in the lead.
+
+Blagg stepped forward and began to speak: "It's six straight for me and
+mine," he said. "Them's our terms. The boys can't see your new-fangled
+proposition at all."
+
+"It's up to you," the girl replied coolly. "If that's the way you feel,
+you can get your money. But before you do, I'd advise you to talk it
+over at home. Don't forget that I'm fighting for you--not against you.
+It might be pretty nice to remember some time that you tried to help
+yourselves. Think it over before you get your checks."
+
+As she finished speaking, Big Jack got slowly under way. Elbowing a path
+through the crowd he shuffled closer, hitching at the straining
+suspender to which was entrusted the task of holding in place his two
+pairs of baggy canvas trousers. Shifting from one bowed knee to the
+other, he contemplated his great bare toes in silence while he drew in a
+deep breath which filled his huge lungs to the bursting point and caused
+the muscles of his neck to stand out in purpled knots.
+
+Dickie waited, knowing full well that it was Big Jack's invariable
+preface for speech. When the big fisherman had secured enough
+compression to proceed, he boomed forth in a fog-horn voice:
+
+"Me and my fellers has decided to stick. Youse fellers can count on us
+if you shoot square. We's willin' to take a chanct."
+
+[Illustration: "Me and my fellers has decided to stick"]
+
+His sentences were interpolated with great gusts of surplus breath. As
+he finished speaking he lumbered away to rejoin his companions.
+
+"That's the stuff, boys. It's the way I like to hear men talk. It shows
+you've got the sand. Take it from me, you'll never be sorry you stuck."
+
+She walked forward and passed familiarly among them while the Blagg
+faction melted slowly away and straggled down the dock in the direction
+of the town.
+
+Gregory stood with McCoy while the excitement quieted down and Dickie
+despatched the fishing-boats on their accustomed morning cruise.
+
+"Well, I'll say you've done wonders," McCoy was saying. "Who would ever
+have thought that Dick would have given in?"
+
+Gregory nodded weakly. "I was rather surprised myself," he admitted.
+
+McCoy looked at his watch. "I must go," he said. "It's almost time to
+blow the whistle. Coming up soon?"
+
+Gregory promised to be on hand as soon as he got his breakfast and McCoy
+hurried off. When the last of her remaining men had left the dock,
+Gregory noticed the girl coming toward him. Now he would learn the
+reason for her sudden change of mind. He listened eagerly for the
+explanation.
+
+Dickie Lang passed a slim brown hand slowly over her forehead and
+replaced a tousled lock of red-brown hair.
+
+"Now," she said calmly, "when can you get me my men?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+THE MOTHER OF INVENTION
+
+
+Everything was coming his way. Kenneth Gregory glanced again at his
+first balance-sheet. The cannery had been in operation but a single
+month and already the business was exceeding his fondest expectations.
+He glanced at the chart which hung by his side. Forty-two completely
+equipped fishing-boats in the water and every one fully manned. He
+smiled as he thought of Dickie Lang's astonishment at the manner in
+which the ex-navy men had taken hold of the work.
+
+His smile broadened too as he noted the receipts from the fresh fish and
+the canned product. Fishing had sure been good. And there had been
+little or no interference from Mascola. Since the day when Dickie had
+accepted his proposition all had gone smoothly. Gregory attributed his
+success to the carrying out of an idea. It had worked. It had to work.
+And it was _his_ idea.
+
+On the floor of the cannery, Dickie Lang was also analyzing the
+phenomenal success of the Legonia Fish Cannery while she waited for the
+owner to accompany her on their daily cruise to the fishing grounds.
+
+"I'll tell you, Jack, it gets my goat how things began to pick up the
+very minute I threw up my contract. He's had nothing but luck ever
+since."
+
+"I wouldn't say that, Dick," McCoy objected. "The boss's idea was worth
+something. Of course I----"
+
+"Oh, rats! I'm sick of hearing everybody talking about an idea. All
+these fellows in here think that Kenneth Gregory can't make a mistake.
+They think that nobody else could have done what he did."
+
+"That's what you want fellows to think who are working for you, isn't
+it?" ventured McCoy.
+
+Dickie gasped. Had McCoy too fallen a victim to hero-worship? McCoy, who
+had been her loyal friend, and servant? She determined to find out to
+what extent he had transferred his allegiance.
+
+"Do you think Mr. Gregory did any more than I could have done?" she
+flashed.
+
+McCoy endeavored to temporize. "Well, in a way he didn't," he said, "and
+then again he did. You see----"
+
+But Dickie refused to see. Whirling angrily, she walked rapidly toward
+the office. Anything to get away from hearing Gregory's praises chanted
+from every lip. Better be with the idol himself than his devout
+followers. She flung open the door and entered the office. Gregory faced
+her with a smile. A self-satisfied smile, the girl thought. In his hand
+was a paper.
+
+"Look at that," he exclaimed. "My idea has worked out a lot better than
+I anticipated."
+
+Dickie glanced coldly at the sheet but made no effort to take it from
+his hand. Looking him full in the eye, she observed:
+
+"I'm about caught up with that idea of yours. I don't see that there is
+anything in it to cause any one to get the swelled-head."
+
+"Who's getting the swelled-head?" demanded Gregory, the smile passing
+from his face.
+
+"Well, I'm not," retorted the girl, laying special stress on the
+pronoun. "I've seen too much of this game to have my head turned by a
+little luck."
+
+Gregory overlooked the implication and admitted soberly:
+
+"Yes, we sure have had luck. There's no denying that. I never had any
+idea the boys would take to the game the way they have."
+
+"They wouldn't if it hadn't been for my fishermen taking all the trouble
+they did with them. Why, a lot of those fellows were seasick when they
+first came down here. They were 'rocking-chair sailors.' My men made
+them what they are. I don't see any luck in that."
+
+Gregory smiled provokingly.
+
+"No, I don't suppose there was," he said. "What I meant was I was lucky
+in getting hold of men who really wanted to learn. You've admitted
+several times that they got along faster than you had any idea they
+would."
+
+"Anybody could catch fish the way they've been running the last few
+weeks," evaded Dickie. "I never saw anything like it before. Nearly
+every boat comes in with a good haul. And when the local market was
+glutted at Port Angeles, you shot them up north and just tumbled on to a
+good market as Frisco was out of fish. That was nothing but luck," she
+challenged.
+
+"And now we have orders for all canned stuff we can turn out," Gregory
+put in.
+
+"Sure you have. From the Western outfit. I wouldn't trust them out of
+sight with a case of fish. They'll eat the stuff up as long as you can
+throw it to them in big lots. That gives them a chance to beat you down
+on the price. The first bad run of luck you have, they'll drop you cold.
+I know. They did the same thing with your father the very first time he
+began to fall down on his output."
+
+"Yes, but----"
+
+"You're not going to fall down." She took the words from his mouth and
+hurried on: "That is just what I was afraid of. Your luck has gone to
+your head. You have an idea things are always going to be like this. I
+know better. And you'll know before you get through. The fish are liable
+to head out to sea any day."
+
+"You guessed wrong about what I was going to say," Gregory announced. "I
+was going to tell you I had an order from Winfield & Camby for a
+shipment of albacore if we can get them out right away. Suppose the
+fish do run to sea," he went on. "I'll back you to find them if any one
+can. And we're well equipped now to follow them up."
+
+Dickie was somewhat mollified but she took care not to show it.
+
+"You're not figuring on Mascola either," she began.
+
+"Mascola," Gregory repeated. "Why, he's been decent enough the last two
+or three weeks."
+
+"I know it," she interrupted. "That's what has me guessing. It isn't
+like Mascola to be that way. He's been checking up on us right along,
+but he hasn't bothered any of our boats since he lost the _Roma_. It's
+about time he showed his hand."
+
+"We have nearly as many boats as he has now," Gregory observed. "Maybe
+he thinks----"
+
+Again the girl anticipated his words.
+
+"Get that out of your head," she snapped. "If you think Mascola's quit,
+you're wrong. The more boats dad got, the harder Mascola fought him.
+It's only when an outfit gets big enough to make a showing that he
+begins to get busy."
+
+"We'll have the rest of the cannery boats out the last of the week,"
+Gregory announced. "I'll have the boys rush them. We won't start
+anything, but just get good and ready. It's Mascola's move. I've made it
+perfectly clear to all the men that we are not looking for trouble."
+
+Dickie was silent for a moment. Then she said:
+
+"I have an idea that Rock gave Mascola a 'bum steer' and that both of
+them are just beginning to find out their mistake."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"I mean that Rock guessed wrong. He told a lot of people around town
+when you opened up that you'd be broke in thirty days. He and Mascola
+are pretty thick and the chances are he told Mascola the same thing and
+the dago believed him. Now they're beginning to find out they slipped up
+in not trying to cripple you before you got your men broken in. I've
+just got a hunch it won't be long before we hear from Mascola. He's
+bringing more boats in here every day from down the coast and the
+islands."
+
+Seeing they were getting nowhere by their talk, Gregory tossed the
+balance sheet to the desk and got to his feet.
+
+"We'd better be on our way," he said.
+
+With Dickie following, he lead the way out into the cannery where he
+stopped for a moment to speak to McCoy. "I'm going outside for a while,
+Mac. If the Western people call up, tell them we're shipping the last of
+those sardines to-day. Sound them out on albacore prices in job lots."
+
+Dickie turned away at the mention of the jobbers. Gregory evidently
+thought very little of her advice. Biting her lips, she walked to the
+door to wait on the receiving platform. McCoy watched his employer
+follow after her. Dick was sore at him. He'd have to go up to the house
+this evening and try to square himself. She was evidently sore at
+Gregory, too. And in that thought, McCoy derived some consolation.
+
+With the crisp sea air fanning their faces as they headed out to sea,
+Dickie's irritability vanished. Desirous of starting conversation after
+a protracted silence, she began: "Who do you think I saw down-town the
+other day?"
+
+Gregory could not guess. "I was in the bank," she began after a moment,
+hoping Gregory would not notice that at times she did frequent Rock's
+institution. "And that crazy fool, Boris, was in there trying to borrow
+some money. He's been hanging round town ever since Mascola fired him.
+When I've seen him he's been drunk on Japanese _sake_. He has it in for
+me because all the fishermen kid him about being run on the rocks by a
+girl. When I stepped back from the teller's window, Boris lunged against
+me and started to mumble something. But before he had hardly opened his
+mouth, a well-dressed man came from somewhere and threw him half across
+the room. And who do you think it was?"
+
+Again Gregory shook his head.
+
+"Bandrist."
+
+As Gregory voiced his surprise, the girl went on:
+
+"You wouldn't have known him. He was all dolled-up and looked like a
+different man. He knew me all right and he had the nerve to ask me if he
+could come to see me," she concluded.
+
+Gregory's dislike of Bandrist increased.
+
+"What did you tell him?" he asked.
+
+Dickie laughed.
+
+"I told him I wasn't any more anxious to receive callers at my home than
+he was at his."
+
+Gregory wondered if the caustic answer to Bandrist might have been
+retailed for his own benefit. He reflected suddenly that Dickie Lang had
+never so much as intimated that he would be a welcome guest at her home.
+Well, there was no use dwelling on it now. He had never bothered the
+girl, and never would.
+
+"Bandrist is no ordinary sheep-man," she went on. "And I know it. He's
+working some kind of a game over there that he doesn't want people to
+butt in on." She paused abruptly and her eyes narrowed. "I wonder," she
+began, but left her sentence unfinished as she noticed that Gregory was
+regarding her curiously.
+
+"What?" he prompted.
+
+"Nothing," she said. "Maybe some day I'll tell you. But not now."
+
+Gregory knew her well enough to know that nothing could be gained by
+urging. During the silence that fell upon them the minds of both were
+working in parallel grooves, groping for a way of light to lighten the
+darkness of an unsolved mystery. When they reached the albacore banks
+and sighted the vanguard of the fishing fleet, both came back sharply,
+back from the maze of doubt and intangible suspicions which clouded
+their brains as the fog had clouded the island that held their thoughts.
+
+Making the rounds of the albacore fishermen the truth of the girl's
+pessimistic prophecy became strikingly apparent. The fish had
+undoubtedly taken to sea. Laying-to to check one of the last of the few
+remaining boats which rode at anchor, Dickie consulted her tally-sheet
+and shook her head.
+
+"Not much in this," she averred. "It's a losing game so far. And there's
+only Big Jack with the _Albatross_ yet to hear from. We ought to find
+him cruising off the seal rocks. He's generally the first out and the
+last to come in. He never gives up while there's a chance left. I've
+seen him 'chumming' for albacore all day and then bring in a bunch hours
+after everybody else had given up."
+
+As they drew near the _Albatross_ she hailed the fisherman: "How are the
+fish, Jack?"
+
+Big Jack continued throwing the live bait from the tanks into the water.
+Then he straightened up and hitched at his suspender.
+
+"They're beginnin' to come in like hell," he bellowed.
+
+The fisherman was right. Gregory looked over the rail and gasped with
+wonderment. The sea about them was literally alive with fish. The lines
+which flashed over the side of the _Albatross_ scarcely touched the
+water before the fish struck.
+
+Dickie's eyes snapped at the sight.
+
+"Put her about," she cried to Gregory. "And beat it as fast as you can
+for home. We'll make a killing if we can just overhaul enough of the
+boys to get in on the run. Load up, Jack," she called as the vessel
+swung about. "Cruise up and down and keep 'chumming' so we won't lose
+them. We're going after the fleet. Pound her for all she'll stand," she
+instructed Gregory. "Every minute means money."
+
+They had been running only a few minutes when they sighted Mascola's
+speed-boat astern. The girl frowned as the _Fuor d'Italia_ roared by in
+a swirl of white water.
+
+"This is where speed counts," she exclaimed. "If Mascola tumbles on to
+Big Jack he'll have his gang around the _Albatross_ before we can get
+within hailing distance of our nearest boat."
+
+Gregory watched the rapidly disappearing speed-boat anxiously. It was on
+his tongue to tell the girl of the launch Joe Barrows was building for
+him at Port Angeles, a craft which the boat-builder guaranteed in the
+contract would beat the boat he had built for the Italian.
+
+"Keeping in close touch is everything in this business," Dickie
+observed. "Fish come in bunches. The ocean's spotted like a
+checker-board. You may have one boat loading up and another right around
+the next point doing nothing. That's where Mascola wins out," she
+exclaimed. "He scouts round and tips his fleet off if you've anything
+good. Then they're down on you like a flock of gulls."
+
+Before they caught up with the stragglers of the cannery fleet they
+sighted the alien fishing-boats coming in their direction. Dickie's brow
+was overcast.
+
+"Just what I was afraid of," she cried. "He's tipped them off. We're
+going to lose a lot to-day on account of not being able to keep closer
+together and being shy on a fast boat. You might as well get the idea of
+filling that albacore order out of your head right now."
+
+As they overhauled the cannery boats and headed them back to the seal
+rocks, Gregory considered the girl's words about keeping in closer
+touch. If he was going to beat Mascola, he'd have to get there first.
+The speed-launch which Barrows was building for him would serve as a
+signal boat, but even that would not serve to keep the other boats in
+constant touch with one another. Before they reached the last of the
+available boats they met Mascola coming back. While the girl stormed at
+their helplessness to cope with the situation, Gregory spoke in
+monosyllables and wrestled with his problem.
+
+He considered the methods of communication employed by the army in
+connecting the various units. One by one he discarded them. The
+semaphore would serve only for short distances and then only when the
+boats were within sight of each other. The same argument would apply
+against the wig-wag. The heliograph would be useless in stormy weather
+or in fog. A fast launch would help out, but even that would not
+completely solve the difficulty. How did boats keep in touch with one
+another? The answer came at once. Why hadn't he thought of it before?
+
+When they came in sight of the seal rocks they saw the masts of the two
+fleets clustered thickly about the _Albatross_.
+
+"Look at that," snapped the girl. "Now, maybe you'll believe I know what
+I'm talking about. We were asleep and Mascola's beat us to it. It won't
+take him long to fish them out with an outfit like that. He's got our
+boats on the outside now, taking what's left."
+
+Gregory saw that she was right. Mascola's boats were crowded closely
+about the _Albatross_ and his own fleet was completely fenced off.
+
+"What did I tell you? He's got them already. Look! He's ready to move.
+While we've been crawling along in this old tub, he's cleaned up."
+
+The alien fleet began to get under way as she spoke and headed about.
+Darting past his boats came Mascola. Noting the tardy arrival of the
+oncoming launch, he made straight for them. Slowing down, he drifted by
+with his white teeth flashing in an insolent smile. Then he opened the
+throttle and the _Fuor d'Italia_ leaped forward and raced away with an
+angry roar.
+
+When they reached the _Albatross_, Big Jack was apoplectic with rage. It
+was some minutes before he could master his speech sufficiently to
+explain the situation. Mascola had arrived when they were hardly out of
+sight, had watched them pulling in the fish and had gone at once to
+summon his boats. The aliens had come upon him from around the point in
+ever-increasing numbers. Had hedged him and taken his school. When the
+cannery boats arrived the albacore quit biting and took to other
+waters.
+
+Dickie Lang issued orders for the return of the fleet to Legonia. Then
+she vented her wrath on Kenneth Gregory.
+
+"So you thought you had Mascola beaten, did you? What did I tell you?
+Didn't I say he'd come back at the first chance? Albacore fishing is
+where he's always been strong. And that's about all there is from now
+on. We've got to come alive and forget these ideas and get down to brass
+tacks. Mascola beat us hands down and we couldn't lift a finger to stop
+him. What are you going to do about it? That's what I want to know."
+
+Gregory curbed his rising anger and answered quietly:
+
+"Before I tell you what I'm going to do, I'd like to ask you a question.
+What could we have done legally to break through Mascola's fence?"
+
+"Nothing. That's where he had us. He got there first. To get in to the
+fish we'd have had to ram his boats and he'd have you up before the
+local inspectors in no time if you had done that. If he had laid his
+nets around ours it would have been different. You could demand sea-way
+and run through them if he didn't move. But this way he had us over a
+barrel. And he knew it. It's a trick no white man would do. But I guess
+even you will admit now that there isn't a drop of white blood in that
+dago's body."
+
+"Then about the only way we could have beaten him," pursued Gregory,
+"would have been to have got there first and covered our own boats. Is
+that right?"
+
+"Yes. But that is not so easy as it sounds."
+
+"It is not so hard either," Gregory went on. "I have an idea that I
+think will work out all right."
+
+Dickie's eyes flashed.
+
+"Forget your ideas!" she snapped. "You've got to have a whole lot more
+than ideas when you start out to beat Mascola."
+
+Gregory felt his patience oozing from him at her words. It was bad
+enough to lose an order from a firm he hoped to get in strong with,
+without the girl rubbing it in.
+
+"You haven't done anything yet but find fault," he said. "You have been
+at this game a lot longer than I have. Maybe you have something to
+suggest."
+
+Something in his voice caused Dickie to quiet down. She began to cast
+about in her mind for an answer.
+
+"You've got to keep your boats in closer touch," she began. "So Mascola
+can't work this same deal on us again."
+
+"That is exactly what I am going to do."
+
+"You'll have to show me."
+
+"I will. I'm going to show you and Mascola both. By wireless."
+
+Before she could interrupt, he hurried on: "Listen. Half of these navy
+men know the International code. The others can learn easy enough with
+some one to teach them who has worked at a radio key. I have several who
+have done that and can rig the sets."
+
+"You must think you're a millionaire. You aren't running a line of
+steamships. Come down to----"
+
+"The sets won't cost much," Gregory went on calmly. "If they did all
+these kids along the shore wouldn't have them. A fifty or
+one-hundred-mile radius would be enough for us. And it wouldn't take
+them long to pay for themselves. If we had had the boats equipped with
+radio outfits to-day we could have beaten Mascola at his own game. When
+Big Jack 'chummed' up the albacore the rest of our boats would have
+known it before Mascola got there. The fish he caught to-day would pay
+for quite a few sets."
+
+"It would pay for itself in another way if it would work," supplemented
+Dickie, much to Gregory's surprise. "Lots of times a boat breaks down
+and drifts on to a reef. If she could get word to some one close by they
+could take her in tow or even pull her off before she was hurt much."
+
+Discussing the pros and cons of the new idea, they took their way toward
+Legonia. When they arrived at the Lang wharf the girl grudgingly
+admitted that the plan might work. At least it might justify a trial.
+Leaving Dickie at her own dock Gregory was about to proceed up the bay
+to the cannery wharf when she came over to the rail and exclaimed in a
+low voice:
+
+"Oh, yes. Another thing. I didn't have a chance to look at that
+statement you had this morning. If you're not too busy to-night, you
+might bring it up to the house."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+BUSINESS AND PLEASURE
+
+
+Alone in his little room in the fish cannery Kenneth Gregory found
+himself confronted by a new and unexpected problem. A hurried glance at
+his watch only served to aggravate the tense lines which creased his
+forehead. It was seven-thirty already. He was due at the Lang residence
+at eight. And what was he going to wear?
+
+The seriousness of the situation became painfully apparent as he pawed
+over his wardrobe. His pre-war clothes had served nicely to wear about
+the cannery. But they were hopelessly out of style. Why hadn't he taken
+the time to have had something decent made in Port Angeles instead of
+taking the first thing in 'hand-me-downs' which the salesman had
+offered? He surveyed the suit ruefully. Then he reflected that his
+errand was purely one of business and hastily donned the garments.
+
+A nasty fit, he admitted to himself, as he looked into the mirror. He'd
+like to get his hands on the man who talked him into it. He looked at
+his shoes. They too caused him a commensurate amount of worry. Built on
+lines of comfort they displayed a total disregard of fashion. The
+longer he examined his attire the more conscious he became of its
+defects. Turning from the glass he walked with disgust from the room.
+
+The moon was shining bright when Gregory reached the Lang cottage.
+Pausing on the graveled walk to reef in his vest, he walked up the steps
+and fumbled about for the bell.
+
+Dickie welcomed him at the door.
+
+"I hardly knew you in those clothes," she began. "They do make a
+difference, don't they?"
+
+Gregory pulled his coat closer about him and agreed that they did. Then
+he noticed that the girl had discarded her man's attire and was clothed
+in a plain white dress. In the light of the little hallway her hair
+gleamed like dull gold.
+
+She led the way into a small living-room upon the floor of which a
+number of vari-colored rag rugs were scattered about. By a big sewing
+table sat a little woman in black. A light shawl draped her shoulders
+and a white cap covered her gray-threaded hair. At their entrance she
+laid aside her knitting and smiled.
+
+"This is Mr. Gregory, Aunt Mary," Dickie announced in a loud voice. To
+Gregory she added: "Miss Lang, my father's sister. She is very hard of
+hearing."
+
+Gregory bowed as he took the hand Miss Lang extended.
+
+"I'm glad to know you," she said. "Real glad. Your father was one of my
+few friends. We enjoyed many pleasant games of checkers together."
+
+Her keen gray eyes appraised him while she spoke and under the frankness
+of her stare, Gregory felt his coat collar slowly pulling away from his
+neck. Passing a hand nervously to the lapel he jerked the garment into
+place while he responded to her greeting.
+
+"Richard all over again," announced Miss Lang when she had finished her
+inspection. "The same eyes, the square chin. Even the same nervous
+manner of hitching at your clothes."
+
+"Aunt Mary!" Dickie expostulated. "You're too personal. You----"
+
+But Miss Lang went on with a smile which put her guest wholly at his
+ease: "You won't mind what an old lady like me says, I'm sure. I always
+told your father just what I thought. And I'm going to do the same with
+you."
+
+Gregory listened attentively while she told him of her first meeting
+with his father. While she spoke his eyes traveled curiously to the
+high-backed organ and the what-not beyond. Richard Gregory had described
+the Lang home as a model of neatness and old-fashioned charm. His son
+went further. The room possessed a personality. It was not only livable
+but lovable as well. The very atmosphere breathed a benediction.
+
+"Do you play checkers?"
+
+Miss Lang's voice recalled Gregory to himself. He shook his head.
+
+"I'm sorry," he began.
+
+"No you're not," put in Dickie quietly. "You're lucky. Don't ever
+learn. Aunt Mary never gave your father a chance to say a word. She had
+her board out when she heard him in the hall."
+
+A knock on the front door interrupted Miss Lang's request for her
+checker-board and Dickie hurried out.
+
+"I can teach you in no time," Aunt Mary was saying. But Gregory was
+listening to the sound of a man's voice in the hallway. Then came the
+girl's laugh.
+
+"I wasn't angry at all, Jack. Just cranky. But I'm glad you came up just
+the same and thanks for the candy."
+
+She reentered the room followed by McCoy. McCoy stopped with surprise as
+he caught sight of Gregory. Nodding casually, he went over to greet Miss
+Lang.
+
+Aunt Mary welcomed McCoy warmly. Then she addressed her niece.
+
+"Bring us the board, Josephine. Kenneth can watch and I'll explain the
+game as we go along."
+
+McCoy sank into a chair and passed a hand wearily over his eyes.
+
+"I have a headache," he shouted. "Don't think I'd better play to-night."
+
+"You've been working too hard," Aunt Mary retorted. "Nothing like a good
+game of checkers for relaxation."
+
+Dickie was already on her way for the board. As she passed Gregory he
+saw that her eyes were sparkling.
+
+"That's right, Jack," she called back. "Leave it to Aunt Mary to
+prescribe for your headache. She knows."
+
+As McCoy drew up to the board Gregory noticed that he was attired in
+close-fitting clothes of ultra-fashionable cut. As he saw McCoy look him
+over he became ill at ease and moved his chair farther from the light.
+Dickie sensed his embarrassment and noting that neither man appeared to
+enjoy himself, strove to make her guests feel more at home. Both men she
+knew were vitally interested in the operation of the cannery. And
+Gregory, at her request, had brought up the balance-sheet. A discussion
+of business affairs would relieve the situation and at the same time
+rescue McCoy from Aunt Mary's checker-board. The rapid termination of
+the first game gave her a chance to interrupt.
+
+"I asked Mr. Gregory to bring up a business statement to-night, Aunt
+Mary; you'd like to see it, wouldn't you? I know Jack would."
+
+Miss Lang nodded and promptly laid aside the board.
+
+"Very much," she answered. "I've always been interested in that business
+and I understand this young man is making it pay."
+
+McCoy heaved a sigh of relief to learn it was merely business which had
+brought Gregory to see Dickie Lang.
+
+At the girl's reference to the object of his errand, Gregory unbuttoned
+his coat and delved into his pocket for the paper. He must have put it
+in his vest. Again his fingers failed to find the missing document. He
+became conscious of a prickly sensation creeping slowly over his flesh.
+Where had he left that darned paper anyway? Suddenly he remembered. In
+his mortification over his attire he had left the statement lying on his
+dresser. He looked up to meet all eyes fixed expectantly upon him. Then
+he leaned back in his chair and tried to smile.
+
+"I guess the joke's on me," he said. "I came away in such a hurry I
+forgot it."
+
+Dickie laughed at his discomfiture until the tears shone in her eyes,
+while McCoy regarded his employer with suspicion. Aunt Mary finished
+polishing her spectacles and settled back to listen.
+
+"I'm all ready to hear it," she announced. "Perhaps you had better come
+nearer so you will not have to speak so loud."
+
+Dickie came to Gregory's rescue and explained the situation to her aunt.
+Then she added in a low voice:
+
+"You must have been stung by another of those ideas of yours."
+
+During the remainder of his visit Kenneth Gregory was content to remain
+in the background. McCoy made a few efforts at conversation as he noted
+Aunt Mary's eyes roving longingly in the direction of the checker-board.
+Then Miss Lang, much to every one's relief, began to monopolize the
+conversation. Beckoning Gregory closer, she said:
+
+"I want to give you just one bit of advice though I don't suppose you'll
+heed it coming from an old lady like me."
+
+As Gregory encouraged her to go on, she exclaimed:
+
+"Stay away from Diablo Island." Seeing that she had aroused his
+interest, she went on: "You're going to ask me why, and I'll have to
+answer that I don't know except that it is a dangerous place and has
+been the cause of a number of strange accidents during the past few
+years. I used to warn my brother to stay away from there. He only
+laughed at my fears--at first. When he lost the _Kingfisher_ at El
+Diablo he called it bad luck. Any boat was liable to be run down, he
+said. Then came the wreck of the _Crane_ off the south coast of the
+island and not a body ever recovered."
+
+"Aunt Mary thinks there's ghosts and everything else at Diablo," Dickie
+whispered. "If you give her any encouragement, she's as bad as my
+fishermen."
+
+Gregory noticed that although the girl's words were intended to ridicule
+the idea, the expression of her face showed that her aunt's words were
+not regarded by her in the light of idle gossip.
+
+"For a time after that," Miss Lang continued, "my brother stayed away
+from Diablo. When fish were scarce he went back. He hadn't had his nets
+out a week before he lost them all. No one ever knew what became of
+them. Will was getting worried though he tried not to show it. He was
+about ready to give it up when your father bought the cannery and came
+to Legonia. For a while after that fishing was good everywhere. As long
+as they stayed away from that accursed island things went well. But they
+were not satisfied. So they sent the _Eagle_ over there. The last they
+heard of her she was anchored in Northwest Harbor."
+
+The room grew very still as the old lady continued:
+
+"That worried them. Because they could not find out what became of her.
+The fishermen began to refuse to go there and I thanked God it was all
+over. Then one night Will and your father went out to Diablo in the
+_Gull_. Why they went, heaven only will ever know."
+
+She rose slowly and walked to the door.
+
+"She won't sleep a wink to-night," exclaimed Dickie as the door closed
+on her aunt. "I must look after her."
+
+When the girl returned a few minutes later she found Gregory and McCoy
+discussing business. Gregory remained on his feet at her entrance.
+
+"I must be going," he said. "I have a lot of work to do."
+
+Bidding McCoy good night, he followed Dickie to the hall.
+
+"I'm glad you came up even if you did forget the balance-sheet. Come up
+again any time you're not too busy."
+
+With the girl's words in his ears, Gregory walked into the moonlight.
+The evening had not been a complete failure after all. As he turned his
+steps in the direction of the town his mind was wholly engrossed with
+the events of the past two hours. How Aunt Mary did hate Diablo. Had the
+girl noticed how badly his clothes fit him in comparison with McCoy's?
+Why had Jack appeared so grouchy?
+
+He stopped short in his descent of the hill road as he saw a man walking
+unsteadily toward him. Moving to one side he watched the drunken
+fisherman stumble on, heard the low mumbling of his voice. Then the
+moonlight fell full upon the man's face.
+
+It was Boris, the crazy Russian.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+THE BAITED PAWN
+
+
+Of all the many saloons that made up Legonia's water-front the "Red
+Paint" was the favorite resort among the alien fishermen. The universal
+popularity of the establishment was due mainly to three causes. The boss
+owned the place and paid off there between moons. Credit was freely
+given to all fishermen in good standing, and thirdly, Mascola's emporium
+enjoyed full police protection.
+
+During the evening when Gregory made his first call at the Lang hill the
+tide of revelry at the "Red Paint" was at the flood. It was pay-day and
+the boss was in high good humor. Either occurrence was always good for a
+number of rounds of free drinks. But when Mascola was happy on pay-day,
+the liberality of the "Red Paint" was indeed prodigal.
+
+And Mascola was happy. Within the frosted glass enclosure that marked
+off his saloon-office from the bar, the Italian sat at his desk in a
+genial glow of good humor. The glow was purely physical, superinduced by
+the rapidly disappearing contents of the slim-nosed bottle which stood
+at his elbow. The good humor was due to other causes.
+
+As he re-filled his glass, Mascola smiled. It hadn't been such a bad day
+at that. He'd showed somebody something about albacore fishing. And he'd
+show them a lot more before he got through. Things were coming his way
+too from other sources. He took out his leather wallet and ran over a
+number of bills of high denomination. Then he took another drink and
+smiled at the ceiling. It had been such easy money. Much easier than
+fishing.
+
+A knock sounded at the street-door. Mascola shoved the wallet again into
+his pocket and hastily removed his bottle of Amontillado.
+
+"Come in," he called.
+
+Boris entered, clumsily filling the doorway with his great bulk and
+bringing with him a strong odor of garlic and Jap _sake_. For a moment
+he stood on the threshold, blinking stupidly. Then he pulled the door
+closed with a bang.
+
+Mascola's eyes grew hard as he dropped his hand into a drawer of his
+desk which stood open.
+
+"Stay where you are," he commanded. "What do you want?"
+
+"Job," muttered the Russian thickly.
+
+Mascola shook his head and an annoyed frown darkened his brow. "Go
+home," he said. "You're drunk. You're no good. I fired you. Don't want
+to talk."
+
+Boris made no move to comply with his order. His small eyes roved
+restlessly about the room for a moment, then came to rest on the
+Italian.
+
+"Boys making fool with me all time," he said. "Say I can no lick woman.
+I get damn mad. You give me job. I show you."
+
+Mascola shook his head. Leaning closer to the swaying figure, he said in
+a low voice: "Show me first."
+
+Boris's face became purple with rage as the import of Mascola's answer
+filtered into his thick skull. He clenched his huge hands and raised
+them above his head, mumbling all the while in his own tongue. Then his
+arms fell to his sides and his pig-like eyes gleamed with belated
+comprehension. Licking his dry lips, he said: "Give me drink. I show you
+to-night."
+
+The Italian slipped a hand into his pocket and tossed him a two-dollar
+bill. Stumbling to the door the Russian found Mascola close by his side.
+
+"Wait," he commanded. "Sit down. There."
+
+He pointed to a chair screened from the street entrance by a large steel
+safe. When Boris had deposited his great bulk therein, Mascola walked to
+the door and looked up and down the street. Then he returned and grasped
+the Russian by the arm.
+
+"Go," he said. As Boris reached the door he shoved him out with the
+whisper:
+
+"Don't forget. You've got to show me."
+
+Joe Blagg was among the last of Mascola's men to come for his money. And
+though he said nothing when he signed the pay-roll, Blagg nursed a
+grouch against his employer. Mascola had cursed him out that morning
+and no livin' dago could do that. He'd get square, or his name wasn't
+Joe Blagg.
+
+The bartender shoved a black bottle toward him as he pocketed his money.
+"Boss's treat," he announced.
+
+Blagg's animosity thawed sufficiently to permit him to accept the
+proffered drink, then flared again under the influence of the fiery
+liquor. He called for another and gulped it down. Then Mascola's whisky
+began to talk. He'd make the dago eat his words. That's what he'd do.
+Two more drinks and he decided to have it out with Mascola at once.
+
+"Where's boss?" he inquired thickly.
+
+The bartender jerked his shorn head in the direction of the frosted
+glass enclosure.
+
+Blagg drew back, his ardor somewhat chilled to find his quarry so near.
+Perhaps it was better to figure out just what he was going to say before
+he tackled the boss. Deciding that he could plan better in the open air,
+he walked unsteadily to the swinging doors and staggered across the
+street. There he leaned against the bulkhead and looked back at the Red
+Paint.
+
+A flash of light illumined the side-walk in front of the saloon office
+and Blagg saw Mascola's figure silhouetted in the open doorway. He was
+looking up and down the street. As the fisherman drew back into the
+shadow the Italian disappeared to return a moment later shoving a burly
+figure before him.
+
+Blagg became even more discreet as he recognized Mascola's guest. Boris
+was a bigger man by far than himself. And yet Mascola was putting him
+out with no trouble at all. The observation had a sobering effect upon
+the fisherman. His militant air changed quickly to one of craft. He'd
+quit the boss and pull a lot of the boys along with him. He could hit
+the dago better that way. They were all pretty sore at being bossed
+around by a "furrinor" anyway. And work was plenty up around Frisco. He'd
+round up a bunch of the boys right away.
+
+With that idea in view he walked along the water-front and turned again
+to the row of saloons. Then he noticed that Boris was lurching along
+ahead of him. He saw the Russian push open the door of the "Buffalo" and
+heard the derisive roar from within which greeted his entrance. Scenting
+amusement at Boris's expense, Blagg followed. When he elbowed his way
+through the press of fishermen who thronged the "Buffalo" bar, he saw
+the Russian surrounded by a jeering crowd.
+
+"Got a job yet, Boris?" some one called.
+
+"He's workin' for the Lang girl now," put in another.
+
+Boris snarled and, flinging his tormentors away from him, made his way
+to the bar, jabbering excitedly in Russian to Pete Ankovitch.
+
+Blagg moved nearer.
+
+"What's he sayin', Pete?" he asked.
+
+Ankovitch laughed.
+
+"He say everybody go to hell," he interpreted. "He say he show Mascola
+he ain't 'fraid of no woman."
+
+Blagg strove to focus his mind on the Russian's words. Boris was sore
+as a boiled oil, crazy as a coot. And he had it in for the Lang girl for
+causing him to get the can. The Russian's reference to Mascola caused
+the furrows in Blagg's brow to deepen. Both of them were sore at the
+girl. Were they framing up? If they were he'd block the boss's game.
+He'd wise her. She'd always shot straight enough with him anyway, and he
+was a fool to have ever quit her. If Mascola was baiting the Russian to
+pull off some dirty work he'd----
+
+Blagg paused in his tentative plans for outwitting Mascola as his eye
+fell on Neilson. There was the man he wanted to see. Swan could swing
+the Swedes into quitting the dago. All thought of Boris vanished from
+Blagg's mind as he drew Neilson aside and conferred confidentially with
+the big Swede in a drunken whisper. When he looked about for the Russian
+some time later, Boris was gone.
+
+Blagg drained the contents of his last glass with a wry face, and walked
+unsteadily to the door. Colliding with a man on the sidewalk, he
+regained his poise by leaning heavily against a sandwich sign-board.
+
+"Hello, Blagg. Seen any of my men inside?"
+
+Blagg shoved back his cap and eyed the speaker with drunken suspicion.
+When he recognized the cannery owner, a furtive light crept into his
+eyes and he beckoned Gregory closer. Gregory noted the mysterious mien
+and promptly credited it to the man's state of intoxication. He was on
+the point of hurrying on when Blagg's words stayed him.
+
+"Tell Lang girl t' look out for 'self."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+Gregory grasped him by the arm and whirled him about.
+
+"Was in s'loon," Blagg muttered, striving to focus his bleary eyes upon
+his auditor. "Damn Russian there, too. Boys's kiddin' him an' Boris tol'
+'em he was't 'fraid no woman. Said he'd show 'em."
+
+"Does he live over there?" Gregory asked quickly, pointing toward the
+Lang hill.
+
+Blagg shook his head and nodded in the opposite direction.
+
+"Down there," he corrected. "Think he----"
+
+But Gregory did not wait to hear what Blagg thought.
+
+Blagg looked after him stupidly. He had had no time to speak of his
+hatred or suspicion of Mascola. But he'd show the dago yet.
+
+A crowd of fishermen lumbered along the sidewalk toward him, talking
+excitedly. Leaning against the sign-board, Blagg was able to gather from
+their conversation that a fight had just occurred at the Red Paint. Some
+one had tried to get square with the boss and Mascola had knifed him.
+
+Cold sweat broke out on Joe Blagg's forehead. To his whirling brain came
+other instances he had heard of how Mascola always got square with those
+who opposed him. Blagg's whiskyfied courage began to ooze. Perhaps he
+had gone too far. Suppose Neilson, with a desire to get in strong with
+the boss, should tell Mascola that he, Joe Blagg, was trying to start a
+strike among the alien fishermen? And a Swede liked to talk too. Why not
+get out of town for a while till the thing blew over? He wasn't afraid
+of the dago and his whole crowd. But what was the use of starting a row?
+Besides he was ready to move anyway. He reflected suddenly that the
+midnight train for Frisco stopped at Legonia on signal. That would give
+him time to throw his stuff together. He had already drawn his money.
+Why not hit the grit?
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+As Jack McCoy took his way down the hillside he was acutely conscious of
+the fact that the evening had been a distinct disappointment. Why was
+Gregory there anyway? That talk about his forgetting his papers sounded
+mighty thin. How many times had the boss been there before? What was the
+matter with Dick to-night? She acted kind of funny, didn't seem to care
+whether he stayed any longer or not.
+
+McCoy stopped by the roadside as he caught sight of a man running
+hastily along one of the streets leading from the town. Whoever the
+fellow was he was sure in a hurry the way he was cutting 'cross lots. As
+the runner came under the rays of the corner arc-light, McCoy started
+and peered intently after the departing figure.
+
+It sure looked like Gregory. And he was angling in the direction of the
+Lang hill. The idea clung tenaciously. When he reached his rooming-house
+it became an obsession. He decided to find out if the runner could have
+been his employer. Calling up the cannery it was some time before a
+sleepy voice answered his summons.
+
+"Boss ain't here. Went out at eight and ain't been back since. Want to
+leave message?"
+
+McCoy snapped up the receiver and walked slowly into his room. So it was
+Gregory. Where had he been going at this time of night? And on the run,
+too. The forgetting of the paper was only a frame-up. Dick had acted
+funny. Now he knew it was because she wanted to get rid of him.
+
+He sat on the bed, making no effort to remove his clothes. You're a poor
+fish, something whispered. Why don't you go and find out if they're
+double-crossing you? McCoy tried not to listen. For a long time he
+stared moodily at the floor. Then he rose and threw off his coat.
+Hastily replaced it and hurried to the door. He was ashamed of his
+suspicions. But he simply had to find out.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+There was a light still burning in the Lang cottage when Gregory turned
+into the walk. Perhaps he was foolish to have returned. Still it would
+do no harm to warn the girl.
+
+As he went up the steps he saw Miss Lang walking up and down the little
+hall. Tapping loudly, he summoned her to the door.
+
+"Could I speak to Miss Dickie a moment?" he shouted. "It is something
+important."
+
+Aunt Mary came out on the porch.
+
+"If you wait a moment," she said, "my niece will be back. She left some
+time ago to take some medicine over to one of our neighbor's sick
+babies."
+
+Gregory's fears multiplied.
+
+"Where did she go?"
+
+"To the Swanson place just over the hill. It's the first place you'll
+come to before you reach the Russian Valley."
+
+"I'll go meet her."
+
+He turned quickly and hurried down the path.
+
+Reaching the brow of the hill, he saw the lights of the Swanson cottage
+and slowed down to a walk. His fears for the girl's safety were
+apparently groundless. The valley lay before him, steeped in moonlight.
+No sound disturbed the stillness save the far-off cry of the screaming
+gulls and the monotonous murmur of the distant sea. Walking slowly down
+the road, grown high on both sides with sage and cactus, he caught a
+glimpse of a bulky figure in the path ahead.
+
+Looking again to the cottage only a few hundred yards down the road,
+Gregory saw the light flash out from an open door. For a moment it shone
+brightly, then disappeared.
+
+As the man in the roadway heard the sound of footsteps behind him, he
+stepped quickly to the brush and faced about. Keeping well in the center
+of the path, Gregory went steadily on with his eyes fixed upon the clump
+of sage which sheltered the disappearing figure. It was Boris, without a
+doubt. No other man about Legonia possessed the giant proportions of
+the big Russian.
+
+Boris glared sullenly from the brush as he saw the advancing figure
+hesitate and turn toward him. Then he recognized the young cannery
+owner. What chance would he have to show Mascola now? The intruder
+threatened the defeat of his cherished plans. The girl he sought was
+coming up the hill. A few minutes more and----
+
+"What do you want, Boris?"
+
+The Russian's answer to Gregory's question came in a guttural snarl as
+he staggered from the sage and flung himself upon the speaker.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+THE FANGS OF MASCOLA
+
+
+Gregory leaped nimbly beyond reach of the Russian's waving arms and
+placed his back to the moonlight. Meeting the fisherman's blind rush
+with a quick blow to his heavy jaw, he sidestepped and struck again.
+Boris blocked the fist with a sweep of his long arm and clinched. For an
+instant the bodies of the two men rocked in the gripping power of the
+embrace. Then they fell to the roadway.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Dickie Lang stopped suddenly as she saw the struggling figures in the
+path. A fight between two drunken fishermen was the commonest thing in
+Legonia. She'd better not get mixed up in it. They were not her men. She
+knew that. None of her fisherman lived up here but Swanson, and the
+Swede she knew was at home. Making a wide detour through the brush which
+carried her beyond sight of the scuffle, she hurried on.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Where's Dick, Aunt Mary?"
+
+There was a note in Jack McCoy's voice which made Miss Lang regard him
+sharply before replying:
+
+"She's gone down to Swanson's, John. One of the babies was sick."
+
+"Has Mr. Gregory been back since I left? I'm looking for him."
+
+McCoy was ashamed of the question. Still it was better to find out from
+Aunt Mary than to try to explain to her niece.
+
+"Yes. He left only a few minutes ago. He inquired for Josephine and when
+I told him where she had gone, he said he would go to meet her."
+
+Shaking his head weakly at Aunt Mary's question if anything was wrong,
+McCoy turned slowly and walked down the path. Everything was wrong. Dick
+had ditched him for Gregory. They'd framed it to get him out of the way.
+Well, it was a cinch he wouldn't butt in. His reflections were cut short
+by the sight of a white figure walking toward him.
+
+"Hello, Jack. What's the matter?"
+
+McCoy stared. Dickie Lang was alone.
+
+"I'm looking for Mr. Gregory," he faltered.
+
+"Haven't seen him since he left the house."
+
+The girl was by his side, looking anxiously into his face.
+
+"Anything wrong, Jack?" she asked quickly.
+
+McCoy shook his head.
+
+"No," he said. "I just wanted to talk to him about changing the pack in
+the morning. Your aunt told me he came back and went to meet you."
+
+Dickie's surprise entered into her voice as she said:
+
+"That's funny. I walked all the way from Swanson's and I didn't meet
+him."
+
+As she ceased speaking came a sharp remembrance of the two figures
+battling in the roadway. Could one of them have been Kenneth Gregory?
+She expressed her fears to McCoy.
+
+McCoy started at once for the hill.
+
+"Go back to the house, Dick," he called back. "I'll go down there and
+see what's the trouble."
+
+Dickie followed after him.
+
+"I'm going too," she said. "I should have gone back and told Swanson
+or----"
+
+Her words were interrupted by the sharp report of a gun from over the
+hill.
+
+McCoy broke into a run.
+
+"Go back," he cried. "Hurry. Get your gun. I'm going on."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Boris looked stupidly into the white face of Kenneth Gregory as he knelt
+over him. Then he staggered to his feet and looked up and down the road.
+As the possible consequences of his act began to filter through his
+consciousness, he jumped to cover in the brush and ran down the ravine
+in the direction of Russian valley.
+
+When Dickie Lang reached the spot where she had seen the men fighting in
+the roadway, she found Jack McCoy bending over the sprawling figure of
+Kenneth Gregory.
+
+"Is he dead?"
+
+McCoy shook his head.
+
+"The bullet went into his side," he said. "He's losing a lot of blood
+but he's still conscious. Run down to Swanson's and phone for the
+doctor. Then have Bill come and help me move him."
+
+While McCoy worked to staunch the flow of blood, the girl ran to carry
+out his orders. Remorse gripped her heart as she raced down the hill.
+She should have gone to Gregory's aid. She might have done something. At
+least she could have discovered the identity of his assailant. If she
+had gone at once for Swanson, he might have arrived in time to prevent
+the shot.
+
+When she reached the house she roused the Swede and rushed to the
+telephone, giving hasty instructions to the fisherman to take a couple
+of oars and a blanket and go at once to McCoy's assistance. After an
+interminable period of waiting she was able to get in communication with
+Doctor Kent. Instructing the physician to come at once to the Lang
+cottage, she hurried away. On her way up the hill she met McCoy and
+Swanson carrying Gregory on the improvised stretcher.
+
+"Where are you going?" she cried.
+
+The Swede started to explain. His house was closest and they were quite
+welcome to bring the injured man there.
+
+The girl objected with decisive emphasis.
+
+"I've already told the doctor to come to our house. Aunt Mary is the
+best nurse in the country. Besides, Bill, you have your hands full
+to-night with Hulda."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Mascola paused on the threshold of his office at the Red Paint with his
+key grating in the lock. Then he placed his back to the brick wall and
+drew his knife as he saw a bulky figure coming toward him.
+
+"Stop where you are," he exclaimed sharply. "What do you want?"
+
+Boris lunged forward and Mascola caught him roughly by the arm.
+
+"Get out, damn you," he cried. "I told you to beat it."
+
+"Tried to get girl," Boris panted. "Gregory man there too. I kill him."
+
+Mascola looked hastily about. When Boris had ceased mumbling, the
+Italian ordered after a moment's consideration: "Shut up. Go down to my
+dock the back way. Get on the _Lura_. Wait there for me."
+
+As the Russian slouched down the street, Mascola reopened his door and
+went into his office. Then he got Ankovitch on the phone.
+
+"Come down to the boat right away," he ordered. "I want you to get right
+out."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Day was breaking when McCoy stood with Dickie Lang on the steps of the
+Lang cottage. The bullet had been found and removed. Kenneth Gregory was
+resting as well as could be expected. There was danger only through
+blood-poisoning. The patient was young and strong and should recover.
+The doctor from Centerville had just left after agreeing with the local
+physician's diagnosis.
+
+"And now," McCoy was saying, "as there is nothing more I can do here
+I'll go back to town. It will sure be up to me from now on."
+
+Dickie put a hand on his arm and looked earnestly into his eyes.
+
+"It will be up to both of us, Jack. We've simply got to keep things
+going for him. I might have saved him. Now it's up to me to make good."
+
+As McCoy walked homeward through the brightening light, he strove to
+consider the events of the night in their proper sequence, but his brain
+rioted in a jumble of confused impressions. He owed Kenneth Gregory an
+apology. Now that the boss was down and out it was up to every one to do
+their level-darnedest. He'd see that they did, too. He was sorry it had
+all happened. Sorry that he had doubted. Sorry too for other things
+which he would not admit, even to himself. And down in the bottom of his
+heart, loyal though it was, Jack McCoy was sorry that Kenneth Gregory
+had not been taken to Swanson's.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+THE COST OF DEFEAT
+
+
+There are periods in every one's life when the standard measurements of
+time are hopelessly inadequate fittingly to express its passing. Minutes
+may creep, or they may fly. An hour stretches into a day or a day
+contracts into an hour directly at the will of circumstance.
+
+Kenneth Gregory found this to be true during his period of convalescence
+at the Lang cottage. As the days went by he found himself devising a
+simpler method for keeping track of time. There were hours when Dickie
+Lang was with him, and hours when she was not.
+
+His moments with the girl were always too short. And he was surprised to
+find that they never appeared to lengthen. His interest in Dickie, he
+told himself, was purely impersonal. She told him of just the things he
+desired to hear most about. Kept him in touch with his world. Brought
+him news each day from the cannery; the business for which he hungered
+and fretted during each minute of his idle hours.
+
+It was Dickie Lang who had told him of the search which had been made
+for Boris, a search which had ended in failure. The Russian had fled,
+leaving no trace of his whereabouts. Blagg also was missing, so nothing
+further could be learned from that source. Gossip had been rife in the
+fishing village over the sudden disappearance of the two men. Then the
+matter was apparently forgotten, giving place to the excitement caused
+by the installation of the first radio-set on one of the cannery fishing
+fleet.
+
+Gregory, who had given orders for a trial equipment before the accident,
+was elated to learn from the girl that the innovation was proving a
+distinct success. Other sets were installed and the practicability of
+the new idea was demonstrated beyond the shadow of a doubt. To quote the
+girl, all she had to do was to "spot the fish, click out the signal and
+the cannery boats would be round her like a flock of gulls."
+
+Mascola, she told Gregory, had regarded the new departure, at the
+outset, as something of a joke. Rock too had ridiculed the idea openly.
+But when the cannery fleet got fish while the Italian's boats came in
+but scantily-laden, Mascola's laugh changed to a scowl and Rock's flabby
+forehead was creased with worried lines.
+
+With the aid of the radio the "patchy" schools along the coast had been
+fished to good advantage while Mascola's fleet were forced to cruise as
+far as Diablo and San Anselmo in order to obtain fish enough to supply
+the rival cannery.
+
+From McCoy's occasional visits Gregory had learned that the plant was
+running to its full capacity. Upon the subject, however, of sales and
+orders, the house-manager was extremely reticent.
+
+So it was that Gregory passed the long days of his confinement,
+rejoicing with Dickie Lang over the growing success of the outside end
+and worrying over McCoy's evasion when he was questioned concerning the
+disposition of the finished product. And all the while longing for the
+time to come when he would be permitted to get back into the harness.
+
+"There's no use letting you go with instructions to take it easy,"
+Doctor Kent had said. "I know your kind. When I turn you out I want you
+to be going strong."
+
+In that opinion, Aunt Mary concurred. But the time came at last when
+Gregory was permitted to leave the Lang cottage and return to the
+cannery. Fearing a reversal of the verdict rendered in his favor, he set
+out at once. At some distance from the cannery he stopped and inhaled
+the fish-laden atmosphere with a singing heart. Once, he remembered, the
+odor had sickened him. Now it came like a breath from Heaven. It stirred
+his soul, quickened his pulse. He sucked in the tinctured air greedily.
+It was life itself. A life that was full and free, teeming with
+opportunity, filled with work and fight.
+
+"Long on fish, but short on sales."
+
+Gregory expressed the state of his business with blunt accuracy as he
+stood with McCoy in the crowded warehouse.
+
+McCoy admitted the truth of the owner's statement.
+
+"We didn't want to worry you while you were sick," he explained, "but
+you can see just where we stand. Something has sure gone wrong with the
+selling end. Dick's getting the fish. I'm canning them. But we can't
+sell them."
+
+"What's the matter with the Western people?" Gregory asked quickly. "I
+thought they were strong for us."
+
+McCoy shrugged. "So did I," he answered. "But a few days after you got
+hurt they quit us cold with no explanation. When we fell down on that
+first big order of albacore, Winfield & Camby lost interest and I
+haven't been able to get a flutter out of them since. The other dealers
+seem to be afraid of us for some reason. They come down and look us
+over, but that is all."
+
+McCoy scowled at the huge stacks of shining tins and shook his head.
+"It's got me," he admitted. "We're putting out a first-class article but
+we can't unload it. I've got a hunch somebody's plugging against us."
+Noting the worried lines which were finding their way to Gregory's face
+at his words, he went on hastily:
+
+"I'm sorry to have you come back into such a tangle as this. I did my
+best but you see I didn't have a minute to get out and take care of the
+sales."
+
+"Don't say a word, Jack," Gregory interrupted. "You've done more than
+your part. Every man of you and every woman too," he added quickly.
+"I'll never forget it. This part of the game is up to me. I'm feeling
+fit now. Keen to get going. I want to look things over for a few minutes
+in the office. Then I'll talk with you again and let you know what I'm
+going to do first."
+
+A careful examination of his finances convinced Gregory of the
+seriousness of the situation. There was only one thing to be done. He
+must visit the jobbers at once.
+
+He paused abruptly in his calculations at the staccato bark of a
+high-powered motor. Mascola, he thought, as he rose and walked to the
+window. What he saw through the glass caused him to stand staring.
+Speeding through the dancing waters of the sunlit bay came a
+speed-launch, heading in the direction of the cannery wharf. But it was
+not the _Fuor d'Italia_. His eyes followed the course of the oncoming
+stranger and a worried frown leaped to his brow. It couldn't be that Joe
+Barrows had completed the _Richard_ already. He glanced at the calendar
+and his frown deepened. In all probability it was his boat. And if so,
+where was he going to get the money to pay for it?
+
+He walked to the wharf and with narrowing eyes watched the stranger's
+approach. Something wrong somewhere, he reasoned. He had ordered a
+speed-boat. One that would beat Mascola's. A craft with real lines and
+bird-like grace like the _Fuor d'Italia_. The oncoming launch, he
+observed bitterly, was the direct antithesis of his expectations. Surely
+there could be no speed in that squatty packet with her sagging bow and
+queer looking box-affair for a stern.
+
+The strange craft drew abreast of the wharf and whirled about in a
+wave-washed circle. The motor hummed with contentment and the hull sank
+sullenly into the water as the man at the wheel guided the boat in the
+direction of the float. Then Gregory caught sight of the letters painted
+on the side:
+
+                                RICHARD
+
+"Can you tell me where I can find Mr. Gregory?"
+
+The man in the boat looked up questioningly.
+
+Gregory walked slowly to the float.
+
+"I'm Mr. Gregory," he answered lifelessly. "I was almost wishing I
+wasn't if that's the launch I ordered."
+
+The driver of the craft rested his arms on the big steering wheel and
+laughed outright.
+
+"Don't like her, eh?" he grinned.
+
+"Can't say that I do," Gregory answered. "It looks to me like Mr.
+Barrows misunderstood my orders."
+
+The stranger's face grew instantly serious.
+
+"You wanted a sea-going craft which could stand rough water and beat the
+_Fuor d'Italia_ we built for Mascola," he said slowly. "And you left the
+lines and everything else entirely up to us. Is that right?"
+
+Gregory nodded. Then a gleam of hope lighted his eye.
+
+"You think this one will fill the bill?" he questioned.
+
+"If she doesn't, it's up to us," the man answered. Noting the skeptical
+look in Gregory's face, he went on: "Don't make the mistake of trying to
+judge a boat from the dock, Mr. Gregory. 'You can't tell by the looks of
+a frog how far he can jump,' or how fast either. Barrows has been at the
+game long enough to quit guessing. When he tackles a proposition like
+yours, he wants your money, not your boat. I came down this morning to
+take you out for a trial. Then if there's anything you want changed we
+can fix it up before we turn her over to you to beat Mascola. If you can
+spare the time I'll take you back with me to Port Angeles. That will
+give you a good chance to see her perform in rough water as it's blowing
+up nasty off the breakwater."
+
+Gregory's face cleared. The suggestion had two-fold value. By acting
+upon it at once he could combine business with pleasure. Visit the
+jobbers in the city and at the same time test out the launch.
+
+"I'll be ready in half an hour," he answered.
+
+The boatman nodded. "I'll run down-town," he said, "and get a bite to
+eat. Don't forget to bring a rain-coat with you. You're liable to get
+wet."
+
+Gregory promised and hurried away. In the cannery he found McCoy and
+outlined his plans.
+
+McCoy objected. "Better take it easy for a day or two," he counseled.
+"No use trying to hit the ball too hard at the start."
+
+Gregory smiled brightly. "I'm feeling like a king, Mac," he said. "I'll
+find out what the trouble is with the jobbers and be back sometime
+to-morrow."
+
+Seeing that his advice was futile, McCoy left to put up a few samples
+while his employer hurried into the office. Gregory turned at once to
+his desk. As he prepared the quotations for submission to the jobbers, a
+cheery voice interrupted him in his work.
+
+"Welcome home."
+
+In the doorway stood Dickie Lang.
+
+He jumped hastily to his feet and put out his hands.
+
+"Oh, if you only knew how good it was to be back," he began. Then, as he
+noticed the girl's rapid change of expression at his words, he hastened
+to amend: "I don't mean I was glad to leave your house. I wasn't. It's
+the only home I've known for a long time. I was only trying to say how
+glad I am to be able to get back to work."
+
+Dickie smiled at his enthusiasm.
+
+"I know," she said. "It's wonderful you were able to get back so soon."
+
+Soon the talk turned to business and Gregory explained his plans for
+visiting Port Angeles. Like McCoy, Dickie voiced her objections, but
+with more vehemence. Seeing at last, however, that the young man could
+not be talked out of it, she exclaimed:
+
+"Never let on to Aunt Mary that I knew you were going or she never would
+forgive me. She's kind of adopted you and she told me to look out for
+you."
+
+Soon they were discussing the new speed-boat and its practicability at
+the present time should it be proved a success.
+
+"Mascola ran across our trammels this morning with a dragnet," the girl
+explained. "If you had had that boat, you might have stopped them. He's
+getting pretty ugly lately and last night his men tried to crowd ours
+off the beach with their seine. If they try it again, there'll be
+trouble."
+
+Remembering Gregory's object in going to the city, Dickie suggested:
+
+"While you're in Port Angeles you might look in at the fresh fish
+markets and find out what's the matter with them, too. They are bad
+enough at best, but they've been getting worse for a long time. Now they
+are hardly yielding us enough to pay to ship."
+
+Gregory promised and looking at his watch, saw he would have to leave at
+once.
+
+"I wish you could go up there with me," he exclaimed. "Why couldn't you?
+I'll wait."
+
+A smile flashed to the girl's lips, then disappeared on the instant. "It
+wouldn't be proper," she said gravely. "Port Angeles is a city and
+people look at things differently in cities. Aunt Mary would have
+nervous prostration if I even suggested it."
+
+McCoy walked with Dickie Lang to the dock to bid Gregory _bon voyage_
+and wish him luck on his mission. Then they caught sight of the launch
+nearing the float and their disappointment registered in their faces.
+Gregory drew the girl aside.
+
+"You have the same idea about her that I had," he said. "But don't
+worry. Barrows' man, I guess, knows what he's talking about and if she
+doesn't make good I don't take her." Lowering his voice so that only
+Dickie could hear, he met her eyes. "You'll notice," he said, "that I
+named her Richard. But as boats are always called 'she,' you will
+understand that means 'Dickie.'"
+
+Before the girl could recover from her surprise he hurried away and
+dropped into the seat beside the driver. As the boatman threw in the
+clutch and the launch shot out into the stream, Gregory looked back at
+the wharf and noted that Dickie Lang's cheeks were red beneath her tan.
+And Jack McCoy, though he said nothing as he walked with the girl along
+the dock, wondered what the boss could have said to make Dick blush like
+that.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+ROCK FOLLOWS UP
+
+
+His first ride in a speed-boat.
+
+Kenneth Gregory leaned back on the cushions and watched the _Richard_
+drag her heavy hull through the quiet water of Crescent Bay. A feeling
+of disgust assailed him. The craft was utterly worthless for his
+purposes. She had no pick-up at all and was barely able to maintain her
+lead as she lumbered along ahead of one of the fastest of Mascola's
+fishing-boats.
+
+The driver, who called himself Bronson, appeared to be perfectly
+satisfied with the vessel's behavior and made no effort to crowd her by
+the fishing fleet. At length they reached the outlet and the _Richard_
+settled comfortably into the trough of the swell. Then Bronson turned to
+his passenger.
+
+"Better put on your rain-coat," he suggested. "We'll be bucking the wind
+and it picks up the spray and throws it right back at us."
+
+As he spoke he slipped into his slicker and waited for Gregory to don
+his mackintosh.
+
+"I'm ready when you are," Gregory announced. "Let her go."
+
+Bronson looked cautiously over his shoulder.
+
+"Want to keep an eye out for Mascola," he said. "Don't want him to see
+this one in action until we're good and ready. I won't open her up
+to-day. Motor's too stiff yet and we're liable to burn out something."
+
+As he spoke he advanced the throttle and the _Richard_ protested at his
+action in a series of spasmodic coughs. Then the hood began to incline
+slowly and Gregory felt the hull rising. Perhaps the craft was not dead
+after all, but only sleeping. Watching Bronson's fingers on the spark
+and throttle, he noticed that the man was advancing them cautiously.
+
+"Watch out for your hat," Bronson admonished.
+
+Gregory moved his hand carelessly to his head and caught his hat just in
+time. With an angry roar the _Richard_ shot forward, raising her great
+hood higher and higher in air while the hull seemed scarcely to be in
+the water at all. The wind blew in their faces like a hurricane carrying
+with it great clouds of spray which drenched their skins and blinded
+Gregory's eyes. Gasping for breath, he noticed that the _Richard_ was
+climbing higher. Then Bronson opened the cut-out and the craft sped away
+like an angry sea-bird.
+
+The roar of the exhaust was deafening and Gregory was obliged to shout
+to the man beside him before he was able to make himself heard.
+
+"Is she wide open?" he shrieked.
+
+Bronson directed his gaze to the position of the throttle device and
+Gregory saw with a gasp of astonishment that the throttle was only half
+open.
+
+On they sped, the hull rising from the water and hurling itself along
+the crest of the waves, tossing them to the sides in great clouds of
+whirling, blinding spray. Could it be possible that the propeller was
+still in the water?
+
+Suddenly he felt the _Richard_ collapse and drop sullenly into the sea.
+The "machine-guns" had ceased firing and Bronson was regarding him with
+a smile. The boatman's face was crusted with salt and his eyes were
+twinkling.
+
+"How about it?" he asked. "Do you think Barrows made any mistake?"
+
+When Gregory recovered his breath, he observed: "Yes. I wanted a
+motor-boat. Not an aeroplane."
+
+Bronson laughed.
+
+"Easier to go through the air than the water," he said. "That's why we
+made your boat plane. It takes a lot of power to put her on her 'high
+horse.' But once she's there, she makes her speed on a minimum of
+horse-power. That's why we bank on the _Richard_ to beat the _Fuor
+d'Italia_. Your boat is heavier than Mascola's, closer ribbed, but you
+have more power. We're backing this one against his in any weather and
+the rougher it is the better it will suit us."
+
+Gregory glowed with satisfaction. The _Richard_ was all boat. He noticed
+that she did not tremble like Mascola's boat, but did her work in a
+businesslike way with no ostentation. He admired people like that, and
+as Dickie Lang had said and he was beginning to find out, boats were
+very much like people.
+
+For some time Bronson instructed him in the proper operation of the
+craft. Then he slowed down and threw up the hood, disclosing two
+complete multi-cylindered motors.
+
+"Everything's double," he explained. "You can cut it all in or halve it
+as you please. And if anything goes wrong with one motor you're never
+hung up. You can always limp in at least."
+
+As they settled down to a good running speed, the talk gradually drifted
+to Mascola.
+
+"The way things are going now," Bronson observed, "it won't be long
+before we're building a new boat for Mascola."
+
+"What do you mean by that? Has he seen this one?"
+
+The boatman shook his head.
+
+"You needn't be afraid of that," he answered. "What I meant was that
+Mascola is hammering the _Fuor d'Italia_ to pieces with his trips to
+Diablo in that rough water."
+
+"Does Mascola go often to Diablo?" Gregory questioned quickly.
+
+Bronson shrugged his shoulders non-committally.
+
+"Can't say," he answered. "Don't know how often he goes out there. But I
+do know that he brags that his boat can make it in two hours and a half.
+Diablo's a bad place for the _Fuor d'Italia_. She's built too light to
+stand the gaff."
+
+The ride to Port Angeles proved all too short. Bronson was communicative
+in the extreme and regaled him of many evidences of Mascola's
+prosperity, chief among which was the Italian's recent order to a firm
+of Norwegian boat-builders at Port Angeles of twenty large fishing
+launches of the most improved pattern. These boats, according to
+Bronson, were of sufficient tonnage and fuel capacity to enable them to
+cruise far down into Mexican waters.
+
+As they rounded the light-house point and made for the breakwater, the
+wind increased, driving a choppy sea before it. Then it was that the
+_Richard_ rose to the occasion and demonstrated her natural ability to
+cope with a head-on sea.
+
+Arriving at the municipal docks, Gregory promised to call for the boat
+on the day following and hurried away to attend to his business. He had
+a real boat all right. Just what he wanted. Now all that remained to be
+done was to see the jobbers and get a few orders which he could convert
+into cash to pay for the _Richard_.
+
+With elastic step he set out for the wholesale district imbued with a
+spirit of rosy optimism. The Western was first on his list. The chances
+were he would have to go no farther. A short talk with Mr. Eby, the
+resident manager, convinced him otherwise.
+
+"Can't quite see your quotations, Gregory," that gentleman had crisply
+maintained. "We have been offered a similar line of goods at fully ten
+per cent. less."
+
+Gregory was greatly surprised. McCoy, he knew, had figured a bed-rock,
+cash price and the extreme lowness of the quotation offered the Western
+was influenced solely by the possibility of a quick sale in straight
+car lots. And still the man claimed he could beat it.
+
+"Do you mind telling me who is offering you stuff at a lower figure?" he
+asked.
+
+Mr. Eby hesitated. It was to his interest to stimulate price cutting.
+The fact that the figure quoted was below cost was nothing to him. A
+cutthroat war between two rival canneries might result in still lower
+quotations which would give him a greater profit.
+
+"Certainly not," he answered. "The figure quoted me was from the Golden
+Rule Cannery."
+
+Gregory felt his face growing hot under the influence of Mr. Eby's
+exasperating smile.
+
+"That figure is below cost and you know it," he said bluntly.
+
+The manager continued to smile. "Possibly," he affirmed. "From your
+view-point. Your cost and theirs may be two different things. Your wage
+scale is much higher than theirs for one thing, and your system, in my
+mind, does not make in any way for low costs."
+
+Gregory's anger mounted at the man's tone.
+
+"What do you know about my business?" he asked quickly.
+
+Mr. Eby shrugged.
+
+"It is our business to keep in close touch with our customers," he
+evaded. "I'm just giving you a friendly tip to do away with some of your
+more or less impractical ideas, and put your business on a plane with
+others. You can take it for what it's worth."
+
+Gregory curbed his anger and started for the door.
+
+"My idea is working out all right, Mr. Eby," he said in parting. "And
+you are going to live to see you've overlooked a good bet."
+
+Eby laughed. "Go to it, young man," he said. "You'll just have to live
+and learn like the rest of us. When you get down to earth again, come in
+and see us."
+
+Somewhat taken back by his interview, Gregory sought the other jobbers.
+But at every place of business he was met by evasions and superficial
+excuses. Brown & Brown had heard he had gone out of business on account
+of ill-health. Possibly they would send a man down when they got
+straightened out. The Eureka people were overstocked and, on account of
+shortage of cars, were not buying any more for the present. Davis
+Incorporated were reorganizing and would do nothing until their plans
+were completed. Others intimated they would submit bids if he cared to
+sell at auction and some broached the question of taking his output on
+consignment. But from no firm did he receive even a conditional order.
+
+The various interviews had a depressing effect upon Gregory's spirits.
+Weakened by his illness, he decided to call it a day and tackle the few
+remaining jobbers on the following morning.
+
+As he sought the hotel he remembered his friend Hawkins, who was working
+on the _Daily Times_. Bill had been his lieutenant overseas. He was a
+fighting fool and had always been an optimistic chap. In his present
+frame of mind, optimism was what he needed. Accordingly he called
+Hawkins up and invited him to dinner.
+
+Some hours later the two men were conversing in Gregory's room. The
+great war had been fought over again, mutual acquaintances checked up
+and the past thoroughly covered.
+
+"And so now you are a full-fledged business man," Hawkins was saying, as
+the talk turned to the present, surveying Gregory through the haze of
+his cigarette.
+
+"Yes. And from the way it looks now I'm about due to be plucked by these
+thieving jobbers."
+
+Hawkins smiled brightly. "Nothing to it," he said. "You've overlooked
+two big things, that's all. When we get them straightened out,
+everything will be lovely."
+
+Knowing that Hawkins expected no reply, Gregory waited for him to go on.
+
+"Your idea is bully. I can't see any reason why it won't work out all
+right. But in order to make that possible you've got to stir up the
+animals. When you get an idea like that, the thing to be done is to
+capitalize it. Why withhold it from the public? They would be
+interested. Let them in on it."
+
+"You mean advertise?" Gregory prompted.
+
+A slight frown passed over Hawkins' face.
+
+"Nothing so crude as that," he answered. "I mean publicity."
+
+The newspaperman's face glowed with the importance of his subject and he
+continued rapidly:
+
+"This is an age of publicity. With proper handling you can do most
+anything. Even adverse publicity, so-called, has its value. Lots of
+shows around here for instance are crowded to the doors every night by a
+mere suggestion that they are not all that they should be. The quickest
+way to kill a man or an idea in this country is by a 'campaign of
+silence.'"
+
+Seeing that Gregory did not quite get his drift, he went on:
+
+"Your idea is O.K. It will write up well if it is handled right.
+Moreover it is a little out of the ordinary, and all-American. That is a
+popular theme at present."
+
+He paused and puffed the air full of smoke-wreaths. In the smoke he
+could see a big story. Why couldn't hard-headed business men realize the
+value of the thing he was trying to get at? Why, Kenneth Gregory's idea
+would be a winner at the present time. He, Bill Hawkins, could make it
+so.
+
+"Listen," he said quietly. "I have to be getting back to the office so I
+can't say much now. I put over a big story for the boss yesterday. Shot
+myself to pieces over it. So he's giving me a week off on full pay to
+take it easy. I want a vacation. I'm a fan for fishing and if you'll
+give me an invitation to go back with you and will let me muss around on
+your boats, I'll see if I can't drop on to something that will look good
+in print. I have an idea I can have a few of the jobbers around here
+yelping at your heels for fish before I get back. In the morning I'll be
+off. Then I'll go down to Winfield & Camby's with you. I know the boss
+there and think maybe I can get him to talk 'turkey.'"
+
+Gregory jumped eagerly at Hawkins' suggestion and immediately extended
+the desired invitation. The following morning saw the two men closeted
+at an early hour with Mr. Dupont, of Winfield & Camby. And under the
+warmth of Hawkins' introduction, the manager's manner thawed perceptibly
+toward the young cannery owner.
+
+Noting the change, Gregory hastened to take advantage of it, and
+straightway put up his proposition. When he had concluded, Mr. Dupont
+took the floor.
+
+"In our dealings with our patrons, Mr. Gregory," he began, "we are
+nothing, if not frank. Our firm is one of unimpeachable standing which
+follows as a natural result from years of square-dealing. We are,
+however, extremely conservative. We play, as the saying goes, no
+'long-shots.' Once convinced of the dependability of our producers, we
+give them every chance and stick by them to the limit."
+
+The manager removed his nose-glasses and polished them carefully before
+going on:
+
+"I had the pleasure of meeting your father, Mr. Gregory. From my
+observation of him, he was everything that one could expect in a man.
+But he was constantly hampered with labor troubles of one sort or
+another. Consequently, he was unable to operate his plant in the way we
+like to see them operate. When we work up a trade for a particular
+brand, we like to be able to supply the demand which we create. If we
+were assured that you were able to make good in this respect, we would
+have no hesitation in sending a buyer down at once to inspect your
+pack."
+
+"But you do not?"
+
+Gregory met the man's eyes squarely and the manager looked him over
+critically.
+
+"Yes," he answered after a moment. "For some reason or other I believe I
+do. I think you are working along the right lines. That is," he amended
+with a smile, "if you do not carry your ideas of cooperation far enough
+to deal direct with the consumer and cut us out of it."
+
+As Gregory shook his head, Mr. Dupont concluded:
+
+"I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll send Mr. Dalton down at once to look
+over your pack. How does that suit you?"
+
+Gregory's face clearly expressed his satisfaction and a few moments
+later he hurried out into the street, leaving Hawkins with the manager.
+
+"I'll meet you here at any time," Hawkins called after him.
+
+Promising to meet his friend at four o'clock, Gregory started again on
+his rounds. Passing a butcher-shop he stopped and surveyed the array of
+fish which were on display in the window. He noted the prices and
+hastily compared them with the figures he was getting from the markets
+in Port Angeles for his fresh fish. There was surely money going to
+waste somewhere. Remembering that he had promised Dickie to visit the
+wholesalers, he directed his steps to the water-front.
+
+The dealers he visited were scarcely civil and among them was none who
+spoke English without the accent of the foreigner. Their observations in
+response to his questions concerning the prices they were offering, were
+short and to the point. If he did not like it, he need not ship to them.
+They were dumping fish every day as it was. The market was glutted. What
+was he going to do about it?
+
+Gregory wondered himself. Then a plan began to form in his brain,
+suggested no doubt by Mr. Dupont's jest about him carrying the
+cooperative idea far enough to include the consumer. Why not? Fish were
+being retailed at almost prohibitive figures. And the markets claimed
+they were dumping them. Somebody was profiteering. Who was it? Certainly
+not himself. He was barely able to get enough from the dealers to pay
+express.
+
+The idea grew as he walked along the street. He decided to take up, with
+Dickie Lang, the matter of establishing a cooperative service-market and
+selling direct to the consumer.
+
+In mid-afternoon he found himself again among the jobbers. But the few
+he had not called upon the day previous, appeared even less interested
+in his proposition. As he came out of the Pacific's establishment, he
+brushed against a heavy-set man with gray hair, who was just going in.
+Excusing himself for his awkwardness, he glanced at the stranger's face.
+It was Silvanus Rock, of Legonia.
+
+Gregory passed on. Rock apparently had not recognized him. Yet surely he
+was not mistaken in the man's identity. The flabby face with its sagging
+folds of pink skin, the snake-like eyes and the long Roman nose could
+not have been the inheritance of any other than the magnate of Legonia.
+And yet, what business could Rock have with the jobbers? Gregory
+wondered as he walked up-town to get a box of candy for Aunt Mary and
+Dickie Lang. While he made his purchase, his mind was filled with his
+meeting with Rock. In some vague way he began to associate Rock's
+presence in the jobbing district with the failure of the dealers to
+become interested in his solicitation. When he reached the office of
+Winfield & Camby at four o'clock, the matter still filled his mind.
+
+"Mr. Hawkins just stepped out," Mr. Dupont informed him. Then the
+manager cleared his throat and beckoned Gregory to his private office.
+"It sometimes happens," he began, when the door closed, "that we are
+forced to change our plans, owing to an unexpected event. Since you were
+here this morning, I feel that what has happened in the interim,
+warrants us in our decision. In view of that, I wish to say that for the
+present at least, we will not send Mr. Dalton to visit your cannery."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+Mr. Dupont shoved an evening _Times_ across his desk and pointed to a
+marked item that appeared therein.
+
+"That will explain for itself," he said.
+
+Gregory read:
+
+             RIOT AMONG THE FISHERMEN AT LEGONIA
+
+    This afternoon when the foreign fishermen were peaceably
+    engaged with their seine, they were brutally attacked by
+    a number of ex-soldiers and sailors employed by the
+    Legonia Fish Cannery, and driven from the beach.
+
+Gregory read no further.
+
+"It's a lie, Mr. Dupont," he said hotly. "My men do not pick fights. A
+few nights ago the alien fishermen endeavored to crowd them off the
+beach and they----"
+
+Mr. Dupont interrupted with a peremptory wave of his hand.
+
+"You may be right," he said. "But I'm not interested. Whatever the
+merits of the case are, the fact remains that you are mixed up in a
+labor brawl with foreigners. As I stated to you this morning, we are
+conservative and until you get matters adjusted amicably with your
+competitors, we do not care to go into your proposition further."
+
+He rose at once, showing the interview was at an end. Gregory followed
+him to the door. In the outside office he found his friend waiting.
+Hawkins, clad in outing clothes, was smiling broadly. The smile,
+however, quickly disappeared as he caught sight of his friend's face.
+
+"Anything the matter?" he asked.
+
+Gregory walked with him to the street before replying. Then he bought a
+copy of _The Times_ and the two men read the account of the fight with
+the aliens.
+
+"What of that?" Hawkins queried. "Your men licked them, didn't they?"
+
+"Yes. But it cost me my chance with Winfield & Camby. Mr. Dupont called
+the whole thing off."
+
+"The devil he did!"
+
+Hawkins' smile returned.
+
+"Why, the old fool," he ejaculated. "Can't he see that this will only be
+publicity for your brands. Why, darn his crinkled old hide, I'll show
+him. And I'll bet I'll have him eating out of your hand in less than a
+week."
+
+He glanced curiously at the paper.
+
+"Regular correspondence," he muttered, as he noticed the date-line of
+the news-item. "That means it comes from the little paper down there.
+What did you ever do to Tommy Black?"
+
+Gregory shook his head blankly.
+
+"I don't even know who he is," he answered.
+
+Hawkins laughed.
+
+"He seems to know you all right," he answered. Then he explained: "Black
+is the editor of _The Legonia Star_. A man by the name of Rock owns
+it."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+PLANS FOR A SHOW-DOWN
+
+
+    Shall the control of our fisheries pass into foreign
+    hands?
+
+    Riot among Legonia fishermen raises interesting
+    question. Ex-service men contest forcibly with aliens
+    for freedom of the seas. Show-down expected in the near
+    future.
+
+"How does that strike you?" Hawkins grinned and shoved the copy of _The
+Times_ forward as "Exhibit A" for publicity. "Notice the date line," he
+exclaimed. "From our own correspondent."
+
+Kenneth Gregory read the news item carefully before replying. First came
+a true account of the fight with Mascola's men on the beach which had
+ended in the decisive victory for the service men. Followed, in
+chronological order, a review of past interferences suffered by the
+American fishermen at the hands of the foreigners. And lastly, glowingly
+outlined, came his plans for meeting the opposition by a cooperative
+organization of one hundred per cent. bona-fide Americans. The article
+concluded:
+
+    The public will watch with a great deal of interest the
+    outcome of Mr. Gregory's fight to regain control of a
+    lost industry in local waters. Should the young cannery
+    owner succeed, it will mean much to the people of Port
+    Angeles in reducing the high cost of living. For Mr.
+    Gregory has already under way, comprehensive plans for
+    supplying the public with fresh fish at a greatly
+    reduced price, through his system of establishing
+    cooperative markets and dealing direct with the
+    consumer.
+
+Gregory's face was radiant with satisfaction.
+
+"You're there on that kind of stuff, Bill," he exclaimed, gripping
+Hawkins by the hand. "You surely put it over in great shape."
+
+Hawkins frowned.
+
+"Fell down on one thing," he observed. "The city editor blue-penciled my
+direct reference to your brands of canned stuff. Claimed it was slapping
+the ad man right in the face. Say, I'll tell you what to do," he went
+on. "Let me write you up some good ads for your stuff and shoot them in
+right away to the advertising department. That will put you in strong
+with the paper and I can 'dead-head' a lot more dope through."
+
+Gregory gave Hawkins _carte blanche_.
+
+As Hawkins set to work, Dickie Lang entered.
+
+"Light haul all around," she announced. "The albacore are heading out.
+Looks as if we were going to have a little weather."
+
+Gregory's expression changed quickly at her news.
+
+"That means we've got to follow them up," he said. "We've got to have
+the fish. We've been putting it over on Mascola for the past few weeks
+and we can't fall down now. The jobbers are watching us and we've got
+to show them we can deliver the goods. In addition to that I am going to
+enter into quite an extensive advertising campaign and when it begins to
+bear its fruit, we've got to have the stuff on hand to come across.
+There are a lot of people looking this way right now and we've got to
+make good."
+
+"That's the way to talk," encouraged Hawkins. Then he smiled at the girl
+and nodded toward his friend. "Notice how I'm bringing him alive," he
+exclaimed. "He's quit 'shooting nickels' now. He's raised his sights
+already."
+
+They all smiled at Hawkins' enthusiasm. Then the girl's face became
+serious.
+
+"You know what going out to sea means," she said quietly. "It just about
+means Diablo. That's where Mascola's boats went this morning and I
+shouldn't wonder if they struck it out there. When they get back we'll
+know."
+
+"We've got to know before that," Gregory averred. "Why not send a bunch
+of the boys over right away?"
+
+Dickie shook her head with great emphasis.
+
+"Haven't the gear," she objected. "It's liable to be nasty around the
+island at this time of the year. We're shy on deep-sea hooks and heavy
+line."
+
+"We'll get it." Gregory turned to the telephone. "I'll order it by
+express," he announced, as he put in his call for the ship-chandlers at
+Port Angeles. While he waited for the call, he addressed Dickie Lang.
+"We can send some over right away, can't we?"
+
+She considered. Then nodded acquiescence. "The _Pelican_ and the
+_Curlew_ are outfitted for that kind of work," she stated. "We could get
+them moving in half an hour. They could go over and do the scouting.
+They both have the wireless, you know."
+
+Gregory made up his mind at once.
+
+"Will you give me a list of the stuff you need?" he asked. "As soon as I
+get this call through I'll come out and we'll get them started. We ought
+to get the stuff we need to-night, or early to-morrow. Then the rest can
+clear." His face brightened. "I'll have the _Richard_ to-morrow," he
+said. "Bronson's going to bring her back and stay two or three days to
+put me on to the ropes. We'll get him to take us to Diablo."
+
+"Count me in on that too," exclaimed Hawkins. "I've got it coming.
+Haven't had a breath of salt air since I've been here."
+
+The girl completed her list of the required gear as the telephone rang.
+Gregory turned to the instrument and gave the order.
+
+"What's that?" he concluded. "You'll have to have the cash? Thirty days
+is customary on that kind of stuff, isn't it? Well, I've got to have
+it.--All right, go ahead and draw on me if that's the way you feel about
+it.--But send the stuff." He turned wrathfully to the girl. "The
+robbers," he said. "They have me in a hole and they know it. We have to
+have that gear right away though Heaven only knows where I'm going to
+raise the money to pay for it."
+
+The problem of raising approximately three thousand in cash before ten
+o'clock the following morning presented its difficulties. Gregory
+decided to tackle the matter without delay.
+
+"I'll try the local bank," he declared. "And give old Rock a chance to
+make good on his promise."
+
+Dickie strove to dissuade him.
+
+"Keep in the clear of that old hypocrite," she cautioned. "If he lets
+you have it at all it will be only with strings which will tangle you up
+later on."
+
+Gregory was on his way to the door.
+
+"A man needing money like I do at present has to get it where he can,"
+he answered. "Will you see to getting the _Pelican_ and _Curlew_ started
+as soon as possible?"
+
+She promised and he hurried out.
+
+Gregory found Rock in his private office at the bank and was welcomed
+warmly by the financier.
+
+"Growing more like your father every day you live," was the president's
+greeting. "How happy we would all be if he could have been spared to
+this community."
+
+Gregory lost no time in preliminaries.
+
+"You told me if I ever got into a tight place, you'd see me through," he
+began.
+
+Rock nodded and the corners of his thick lips turned downward.
+
+"I sincerely trust you have met with no business reverses, my young
+friend," he purred. "However, if such is the case, feel perfectly free
+to make me your confidant."
+
+Briefly Gregory stated his case, to which the old man listened
+attentively. When he had concluded, Rock's eyes were on the ceiling, and
+his soft white hands caressed the desk noiselessly.
+
+"If you will accept a word of advice from a man old enough to be your
+father, and one who is entirely disinterested in you, save in a personal
+way as the son of my old friend, you will----"
+
+"What?"
+
+Gregory cut short his rambling.
+
+"Stay away from Diablo Island."
+
+Rock's advice carried a mandatory note which was not lost upon his
+auditor.
+
+"Why?" Gregory asked quickly.
+
+Rock searched the far corners of the room for the answer to the
+question. At length he replied: "It is an extremely dangerous place,
+particularly at this season of the year. Storms are prevalent about
+Diablo and by making the venture at this time, you place not only your
+capital in jeopardy, but the lives of your men as well."
+
+Gregory realized he had little time for argument.
+
+"I've asked for a loan of three thousand for ten days, Mr. Rock. It's up
+to you. What will you do for me?"
+
+A slight frown passed over the bank president's forehead at the young
+man's insistence. For a moment he gave his entire attention to the
+blotter on the desk. Then he said:
+
+"I will let you have the money you desire on one condition. That you
+confine your operations to coastal waters. Your security will then be
+comparatively safe and----"
+
+"You forget, Mr. Rock, that I am not taking my cannery with me to El
+Diablo," Gregory broke in. "Don't you regard the plant and the canned
+product on the floor as sufficient security for a temporary loan of
+three thousand dollars?"
+
+Rock nodded. After a moment's silence he said: "Then there is another
+thing. This is a time to speak plainly. Otherwise I would make no
+mention of it. But as you are seeking a favor at the hands of this bank,
+it is my duty to inform you that we do not wish to countenance or
+encourage, in any way, your policy of stirring up trouble with our alien
+population."
+
+Gregory rose angrily.
+
+"There is no use of my taking up your time or mine any further," he
+said. "My business is my own. And while we're on the subject I'll say
+that I intend to run it as I please. Neither myself nor my men are
+seeking trouble with Mascola's foreigners. But I'll tell you here and
+now that we are prepared to fight, if need be, for what the law says we
+can have. We want only a square deal, Mr. Rock, and you can take it from
+me we are going to get it."
+
+Walking out of the bank president's office Gregory observed a familiar
+figure leaning idly against one of the grated wickets. And though the
+man was dressed in the extreme of fashion, he had no difficulty in
+recognizing him. It was Leo Bandrist, the lord of El Diablo. Gregory
+returned the islander's nod and hurried to the street. As he walked to
+the cannery he found it hard to concentrate his thoughts on the problem
+of raising the desired funds. Rock was a royal old hypocrite. Of that he
+was sure now. The financier had used his influence among the jobbers to
+some purpose. He had knocked him through his local paper. And now he was
+telling him, almost threatening him, to stay away from El Diablo. His
+mind flashed again to Bandrist. What brought the man to Rock's bank?
+Business, no doubt. But what kind? Was Rock backing Bandrist? Were the
+two men in cahoots with Mascola's gang? If so, for what purpose?
+
+The questions multiplied with astonishing rapidity. When Gregory arrived
+at the cannery he had decided upon a definite course of action. He would
+wire Farnsworth, the estate's attorney, to sell his bonds at a sacrifice
+if need be. They should bring enough, added to his own personal account,
+to pay for the equipment he desired. After that, he'd go to Diablo and
+call Rock's bluff, whatever it was.
+
+It was late that evening before he received an answer from the lawyer.
+Farnsworth had regarded the instructions of his client as sheer idiocy
+and had taken no pains to conceal the fact. But he had sold the bonds
+and was forwarding the money. Close upon the message from the attorney
+came one from the ship-chandlers at Port Angeles. They were shipping the
+gear in the early morning. Gregory heaved two great sighs of relief
+which adequately expressed his feelings at the contents of the two
+respective messages.
+
+The day had ended better than he anticipated. The _Pelican_ and the
+_Curlew_ were at Diablo by now. He should hear from them any minute.
+While he was waiting there was much that he could do. He took up his
+personal bank-book and began to balance it. A low rap at the office-door
+interrupted him.
+
+Dickie Lang entered with McCoy and Hawkins.
+
+"We've been out for a walk," she announced. "Thought we'd stop in and
+see if you'd heard anything from the boys yet."
+
+"Not yet," Gregory answered. "I'm going to keep a man at the key all
+night. We should have heard before this. They got a fairly early start
+and with good weather should have hit the island in time to get a good
+line on things before dark. I just got a wire from the ship-chandlers
+and they are shipping the stuff the first thing in the morning."
+
+As the talk turned to Diablo, Hawkins listened attentively though he
+said but little. At length the party rose to go.
+
+As Gregory was bidding them good night one of the radio men entered with
+a message. Gregory glanced at the meaningless jumble of words and shook
+his head.
+
+"Too much for me," he announced. "I haven't savvied the code out well
+enough yet to read this one."
+
+The operator again took the message.
+
+"Haven't been using it long," he answered. "But one of the boys dropped
+on to a little rig on one of the cliffs a little way from here, so we
+thought it was just as well to be careful."
+
+Gregory nodded and the company drew closer to the operator as he bent
+over his work. When the message was decoded it read:
+
+                              Off Northwest Harbor El Diablo
+
+    From: Launch _Pelican_.
+
+    Albacore tuna running close shore this end. Slipped
+    round Mascola's boats by running round south shore. His
+    fleet off Hell-Hole Isthmus. Spotted them hour ago.
+    Don't think he's wise we're here. Can load up fleet if
+    they get here quick and can dodge by Mascola. What shall
+    we do?
+
+The message was signed by Tom Howard.
+
+Dickie beamed at the news.
+
+"I know right where he is," she said. "When you get them that close in
+at this time of the year it means they are running in bunches and
+there's pretty apt to be some weather."
+
+She glanced at her watch.
+
+"Not much sleep for me to-night," she announced. "I've got a lot to do
+before morning. Guess I'll be on my way. It will mean work to clear by
+to-morrow noon and every minute is going to count."
+
+"It will mean a scrap with Mascola too, unless I miss my guess," put in
+McCoy. "When he finds we are hitting into his territory there's liable
+to be trouble."
+
+Hawkins' eye brightened at the possibility. "That will mean a story for
+me," he contributed.
+
+"It will mean more than all that," Gregory said slowly. "It means the
+thing we need most--money. Fish in car-load lots. A chance to show the
+jobbers we know our business. It may mean a show-down with Mascola. And
+if it does, we've got to be ready when it comes."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+THE GRAY GHOST
+
+
+Ready to clear for Diablo at last! Gregory's lieutenants had done their
+work well. The gear from the ship-chandlers had arrived on the morning
+train. Also the remittance from Farnsworth. Dickie Lang had outfitted
+the fishing-boats in record time. Crews of experienced men were selected
+and supplies taken aboard. One by one the launches were carefully
+examined by the girl and despatched singly on a course mapped out by
+herself, a course which would bring them to Northwest Harbor without
+skirting the shore of the island. The auxiliary supply boat, the last of
+the fleet to go, had cleared but an hour before. For the time being
+Dickie Lang was content to rest upon her oars.
+
+Bronson was ready. In response to a night letter from Gregory he had
+arrived on time with the _Richard_, bringing with him a full equipment
+of heavy gear. Tuned to the minute, the speed-craft waited impatiently
+at the cannery float for the signal to be under way.
+
+Jack McCoy was ready. Everything within the cannery was shipshape to
+handle a big run. Depleted supplies had been hastily ordered. Necessary
+additions to the floor force had been made and the house-manager was in
+possession of detailed instructions for the running of the plant during
+the owner's absence.
+
+Even Hawkins was ready. The advertisements had been written and checked
+over before being despatched to _The Times_ to "farm out" among the
+other city dailies. In addition to that, the newspaperman had arranged
+to communicate with his paper _via_ the cannery wireless should he be
+fortunate enough to secure a big story.
+
+Gregory himself was ready. The details of the embarkation had been
+covered to the minutest detail. A plan had been formulated in the early
+morning hours for the outwitting of Mascola at El Diablo, a plan to
+which Dickie Lang had given her hearty approbation before it was sent to
+Howard over the radio.
+
+Gregory turned for a last word with McCoy before giving the order which
+would send the _Richard_ to sea.
+
+"We'll keep in close touch, Jack," he said. "We'll expect you to do the
+same. This is Friday. If we send in a lot of fish to-morrow it will mean
+a straight run over Sunday. Keep a man at the key day and night. And
+don't forget that we are low on cash. If you get any orders that look at
+all good, grab them until we can get 'out of the woods.' We're going up
+against a mighty stiff proposition. It's make or break, and the sooner
+we get down to cases with Mascola the better it will be."
+
+He put out his hand and McCoy's fingers tightened over his. Then McCoy
+watched him go down the gangway and take his place beside Dickie Lang in
+the _Richard_.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"You don't mean to tell me that's Diablo?"
+
+Hawkins wiped his dripping face and stared at the misty blot on the
+purpling horizon.
+
+Gregory and Dickie Lang looked up from their scrutiny of the small clock
+on the _Richard's_ dash and smiled:
+
+"Two hours and ten minutes to here," Gregory announced. "We can make it
+easy in two hours and a half, and we've been bucking a head wind and sea
+all the way over. If the _Fuor d'Italia_ can do this well, Mascola will
+certainly have to show me."
+
+Bronson smiled but made no comment.
+
+As the island loomed across their track, Dickie directed a change of
+course.
+
+"Cut in close to that big cliff on the northeast corner and we'll work
+our way along close in to the shore."
+
+Bronson complied. Then the girl turned to Gregory.
+
+"Get my idea?" she asked.
+
+"You want to see if Mascola has fallen for our scheme," Gregory replied.
+
+"Exactly. We'll cruise by his fleet and lay to by the _Pelican_. Then
+we'll find out if he's spotted the _Curlew_ yet. If he hasn't, the boys
+can get in in the dark and 'chum' the fish. By that time we won't care
+what Mascola does."
+
+The passing of a few minutes brought them in sight of the alien fleet
+grouped closely together off Black Point.
+
+"They've shifted," announced the girl. "Tom's message said they were off
+the Hell-Hole."
+
+Gregory said nothing but as they drew nearer he exclaimed: "Look!
+They've got the _Pelican_ sewed up tighter than a drum. Looks like
+Mascola hasn't tumbled on to the other boat yet."
+
+"Can't tell."
+
+Dickie searched the darkening water intently. Then she observed: "I
+don't see Mascola's boat anywhere. Maybe he's cruising the island."
+
+Throttling to the speed of an ordinary fishing craft they approached the
+fleet and dodged skilfully among the boats in the direction of the
+_Pelican_.
+
+Tom Howard had but little news. He had put to sea from Northwest Harbor
+according to orders. Had circled the island and appeared off the east
+coast at daybreak as if en route from the mainland. Had stumbled on to a
+small school of albacore off Black Point and started fishing. Mascola's
+fleet had moved down from Hell-Hole in the early morning. Had "fenced"
+him. The Italian's men had been drinking freely all day and had refused
+to give him sea-way to get out. Of Mascola himself he had seen but
+little. The Italian boss had been down in the morning but had paid
+little attention to his men. After boarding but one of his boats he had
+returned with the _Fuor d'Italia_ in the direction of the Hell-Hole
+Isthmus. He had not been back since.
+
+"Is the _Curlew_ still off Northwest Harbor?" inquired Gregory.
+
+"Don't know. Haven't tried to reach them. Didn't want to wise these
+fellows we had anybody else over here. 'Sparks' says they've got a rig
+round here somewhere and have been trying to hail somebody all day.
+We've been getting a few messages from the boys. Most of them are off
+the other side of the island now, waitin' for dark to pass the harbor."
+
+Gregory and Dickie were elated to find the fleet so near. At the same
+time both looked worried at the mention of another wireless equipment in
+the immediate vicinity.
+
+"I'll bet they're trying to reach that shore-set the boys spotted the
+other day," hazarded the girl. She looked at her watch and glanced
+toward the towering peaks which cast their shadows far out into the
+water. "Well, if they are, we can't stop them," she observed. "What do
+you say we start along the north shore with an eye out for fish and
+Mascola? Maybe he's already nosing around Northwest Harbor."
+
+Gregory agreed to the girl's suggestion.
+
+"Running slowly will bring us up with the _Curlew_ about dark," he said.
+"Let's go."
+
+Climbing again into the _Richard_, Bronson threw in the clutch and the
+speed-craft zigzagged her way through the fishing fleet and headed away
+from Black Point. At the same time one of the faster of the alien boats
+detached itself from the others and trailed along in their wake.
+
+"Better slip that fellow," advised the girl. "We don't want him tagging.
+If we keep well in he won't be able to see us long."
+
+Gregory gave Bronson the necessary orders, and the _Richard_ bounded
+away from her pursuer and raced into the shadows of the cliff. When they
+arrived at the point near the Hell-Hole Isthmus, the speed-craft motor
+began to miss and Bronson guided the _Richard_ in the lea of the
+promontory and threw out an anchor.
+
+"Good place to fix that right now," he said. "You see everything's new
+and I've been feeding too much oil. The plugs are all gummed up. 'Twon't
+take but a minute to clean them."
+
+While he worked over the motor Gregory's eyes roamed shoreward to the
+cliffs. It was quite dark now and only the sound of the lapping waves
+betokened the presence of the jagged rocks which projected above the
+surface of the water near the shore. It was almost here he remembered
+suddenly that the _Sea Gull_ had been wrecked. As he looked out into the
+darkness, he felt Dickie's fingers tighten on his arm.
+
+"Look!" she cried. "What's that behind us?"
+
+Gregory turned about to see the black waters to the sternward were
+rippled with sparkling threads of silver-white. From out the darkness
+came a swiftly moving gray shadow. One glance astern caused Bronson to
+slash the anchor-rope which held the _Richard_. Then he started the
+auxiliary motor and threw the speed-craft forward with a jerk. The same
+instant a long gray hull brushed by them and disappeared into the gloom
+as silently as she had come. Bronson whirled the _Richard_ about, gazing
+intently after the departing stranger.
+
+"A miss is as good as a mile," he observed. "If it hadn't been for the
+dual motor we'd have been out of luck."
+
+"I wouldn't say so," Hawkins snapped. "A miss of a mile wouldn't give a
+man heart-failure. Lord, I'm weak as a cat."
+
+Kenneth Gregory leaned closer and spoke in a voice which only the
+boatman could hear. Bronson put about at his words and muffling down,
+followed silently after the gray boat.
+
+"Cut out your lights."
+
+Bronson threw the switch at Gregory's command.
+
+"It's against the law," he muttered, "but I reckon it's safer with a
+bird like that."
+
+Soon the strange craft was again dimly visible, appearing like a gray
+blot in the darkness ahead. Off the Hell-Hole she turned shoreward and
+was lost to view.
+
+"Tell him to stop the motor for a moment," whispered Dickie Lang.
+
+When Bronson complied, the silence for the space of a few minutes was
+unbroken. Then from the little cove came the muffled cough of a
+high-speed motor.
+
+"All right. Head out."
+
+The _Richard_ sped on her way at Gregory's command. Then he asked: "What
+did that sound like to you, Bronson?"
+
+The boatman answered promptly: "That was the bird you're looking for.
+I've heard the _Fuor d'Italia's_ exhaust too many times to guess wrong."
+
+Dickie Lang nodded sagely in the darkness, while Bronson volunteered:
+
+"I think I know the one that nearly run us down too. Running dark's her
+long suit." For a moment he hesitated, then he added: "She looked a
+whole lot like the _Gray Ghost_."
+
+"Interesting, if true," muttered Hawkins, sliding nearer to the
+operator. Then he asked aloud: "Who's the _Gray Ghost_?"
+
+Bronson noted the suppressed eagerness of the man's tone. Then he
+remembered that Hawkins was a newspaperman. Reporters were a nosey class
+as a rule. Perhaps it would be as well to keep still. After all, what
+did he, Bronson, know about the _Gray Ghost_? What did anybody really
+know about her, for that matter?
+
+"The _Gray Ghost_ is a fishing-boat," he said quietly, "that was built
+by Al Stevenson. She's bigger and quieter than the average. She's
+supposed to be about as fast for her size as any of them. I heard the
+other day she was owned by a fellow by the name of----" He stopped
+abruptly. "I can't remember the man's name," he concluded.
+
+Hawkins knew Bronson was lying. Straightway he decided to find out what
+he could about the ownership of the _Gray Ghost_. Of the vessel herself,
+he had some knowledge though he gave no intimation that he had ever
+heard the name before.
+
+"Mascola must own the _Gray Ghost_ himself, the way he's sticking around
+her," observed Dickie Lang. "He must have been waiting in there for her
+or he'd have been scouting around before this."
+
+Gregory agreed.
+
+"Tom said they were pretty well fished out down below," he contributed,
+"and Mascola hadn't given them a new location. He's evidently got
+something on his mind that's more important to him than fishing."
+
+Bronson said nothing but smiled grimly in the darkness. Perhaps that
+wasn't such a wild guess, at that. But it was none of his business. His
+firm was building boats for the Italian, so why should he say anything?
+
+The sky was dark overhead and a freshening breeze sprang up when they
+reached the tip of the island and headed shoreward. Rounding Devil's
+Point they came in full view of the glimmering lights of the fishing
+fleet.
+
+"Looks like home," commented Dickie. "Wonder how long the boys have been
+there." She checked up the lights rapidly, then announced: "They're all
+there but one. Probably the supply-boat. She isn't due yet. That's
+pretty quick work I'd say."
+
+Hailing the first of his fishing-boats, they learned that the voyage
+from the mainland had been without incident. The albacore were thick
+about the island. They were keeping the fish around with live bait. All
+of the fishermen predicted a record haul.
+
+Proceeding to the _Curlew_, Bronson tied the _Richard_ alongside and the
+party from the speed-launch climbed aboard. Then the girl conferred with
+Gregory and plans for the night were formulated. The fleet would lay at
+anchor with every motor in instant readiness to get the respective
+vessels under way at a given signal. The men would alternate on an
+anchor watch and keep the fish "chummed" up during the night. Those who
+were off duty would get their needed rest and make no unnecessary noise.
+No vessel was to move from her anchorage without permission from the
+_Curlew_. Fishing would begin at daybreak.
+
+With preparations completed for the night, Gregory's party made
+themselves comfortable aboard the _Curlew_. A message was despatched to
+the _Pelican_ instructing Howard to join the fleet shortly after
+midnight. And the cannery was notified of the safe arrival of the boats
+at the island.
+
+After supper Hawkins clung tenaciously to Bronson and the two men
+retired to the bow and conversed in low tones. Gregory sat with Dickie
+Lang in the stern and for some time puffed at his pipe in silence. The
+yellow rays which issued from the fresneled glass light on the mast-head
+fell full upon the girl's figure and Gregory saw that her eyes were
+fixed on the dark outlines of the coast.
+
+"What do you make of Mascola?"
+
+Dickie shook her head. "I don't know," she answered. "He has me guessing
+right now. I can't understand why he's been hanging round Hell-Hole all
+day and hasn't tumbled on to the _Curlew_. He seems to have forgotten
+his boats entirely."
+
+"I have an idea he has," Gregory answered. "Sometimes I think that
+perhaps fishing is only a small part of Mascola's business. We both know
+he hasn't made much with his boats in the last few months, yet Bronson
+says he's having twenty new launches built at Port Angeles. That will
+run into a big bunch of money at present prices."
+
+"You're not the only one who has ideas to-night," Dickie said softly.
+"Being around Diablo always makes me think--and wonder."
+
+"What?" Gregory encouraged.
+
+The girl moved closer to his side.
+
+"I'm wondering about the same things our fathers wondered about," she
+said. As Gregory said nothing, she went on hurriedly: "Did you ever stop
+to think that if Mascola and that gray boat lay in at Hell-Hole that
+they are doing it with Bandrist's permission? That means that whatever
+they are doing there, Bandrist is in on it." She paused abruptly and her
+eyes rested full on Gregory's face. "I have an idea that old Rock is in
+on it, too," she said. "He and Bandrist are pretty thick evidently, and
+Rock always did stick up for Mascola. And all three of them are doing
+all they can against us."
+
+"And you think it is something else than fishing?" Gregory prompted.
+
+"Yes, I'm sure of it. I think our fathers had the same idea. I believe
+they came over here alone that night to find out."
+
+"Do you think----" Gregory began.
+
+But the girl answered his unfinished question.
+
+"Yes," she said slowly, "I think they found out. That is why they never
+got out alive."
+
+"But they were wrecked and drowned."
+
+Dickie shook her head slowly. "I have never thought so," she answered in
+a half-whisper. "Listen," she went on, "boats like the _Sea Gull_ don't
+wreck themselves and a better man with a launch than my dad never lived.
+Men like him don't drown easily. He was a regular fish in the water and
+had got out of many a smash-up before."
+
+"But they were drowned. The coroner himself told me----"
+
+"You're right," she interrupted. "Any man can be drowned. How long do
+you suppose you and Tom Howard would have lasted on the island if you
+had insisted on staying the night we were over here?"
+
+Gregory considered her words carefully. In the light of past events,
+they held some truth. But if Bill Lang and his father had met with foul
+play, why were the bodies ever recovered? Why would it not have been
+simpler to have made way with them entirely? He put the question and
+Dickie answered promptly:
+
+"That would have caused a search of the island. Just what they do not
+want, if they are up to anything crooked over here. With the bodies
+recovered and the boat smashed, it had all the appearance of a natural
+wreck."
+
+"Why have you never said anything like this before?"
+
+Dickie hesitated. Then she answered simply. "Because I never felt as if
+I knew you well enough. I have no proof. It's only a girl's idea, and
+one I'm afraid you would have taken but little stock in."
+
+"You're mistaken," Gregory replied. "I would have. And perhaps by now we
+could have had the proof."
+
+"No. We've done just right. If we had pretended we suspected anything
+they would have gone to cover. There's only one way to get to the bottom
+of this thing and that is to beat Mascola at his own game. Make him
+think that fish are the only thing in the world we care for around
+Diablo. And while we're fishing over here, keep our eyes open and learn
+what we can."
+
+Before Gregory could reply the silence of the night was broken by the
+sharp exhaust of a high-speed motor. Looking in the direction of the
+sound, he saw a flash of red pierce the darkness and heard the girl's
+voice close to his ear.
+
+"I guess we're due to find out something now. Here comes Mascola."
+
+Together they watched the red light brighten. Then came a flash of green
+as the oncoming launch swerved and sped toward them. In a few moments
+Mascola had located the flag-ship and the _Fuor d'Italia_ lay snorting
+angrily by the _Richard's_ side.
+
+"I want to see the boss," demanded the Italian.
+
+Gregory leaned over the rail and focused his flash-light on Mascola.
+
+"What do you want?" he called.
+
+Mascola blinked under the bright rays. Seated beside him was another man
+who leaned closer into the shadow of the fishing-boat.
+
+"I want you to move," Mascola said thickly. "My men were here first.
+Plenty of fish at San Anselmo. Many as here. If you go to the other
+island there will be no trouble."
+
+"And if we stay?"
+
+Mascola's passenger looked up quickly at Gregory's words, and the light
+fell full upon his face.
+
+It was Bandrist.
+
+"I hope you will not decide to stay," he said slowly. "As I have told
+you before, I'm not seeking trouble on this island. Mascola's men have
+been drinking too much and are ugly. A supply-boat arrived to-day from
+the mainland with too much liquor. I am having some difficulty with my
+own men. I hope you will help us avoid trouble."
+
+Gregory answered them at once.
+
+"If there is any trouble, it will be of your making. The ocean is free
+to all. We are interfering with no one's rights. We're here. The fish
+are here. And here we're going to stay."
+
+"I'll show you, you----"
+
+Bandrist checked the Italian's angry outburst by placing a hand firmly
+upon his arm.
+
+"I'm sorry," he began. But Mascola's open muffler drowned his words and
+the _Fuor d'Italia_ leaped away into the darkness.
+
+"Mascola's drunk," commented Dickie, looking after them. "Otherwise, he
+would never have talked like that. It's a wonder Bandrist ever mixed up
+with him." She turned about and confronted Gregory. Behind him were
+Hawkins, Bronson and the crew of the _Curlew_. "This means we've got to
+move," she exclaimed. "We'd better round up the bunch, give them their
+positions and start fishing."
+
+Gregory and the girl climbed into the _Richard_, calling to Bronson to
+follow.
+
+"Tell 'Sparks' to send word to Howard to beat it out with the _Pelican_
+right away," Gregory instructed Hawkins. Then he exclaimed to Dickie as
+she took her seat beside him: "It looks like Mascola was spoiling for a
+fight. And if he is I'll say he's due for the surprise of his life."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+STRICTLY ON THE DEFENSIVE
+
+
+The _Richard_ was in motion before the echoes of the _Fuor d'Italia's_
+gatlin-like exhaust had died away. Directing Bronson to take them
+alongside each of the vessels which composed the fleet, Gregory and
+Dickie Lang boarded the fishing vessels and conferred with the
+respective captains. Gregory's instructions were phrased with military
+directness.
+
+Every launch was assigned a definite position which it was to assume at
+once and hold at all cost. The fleet was divided into three divisions.
+The main unit, comprising the vessels equipped with the live-bait tanks,
+were to begin "chumming" at once within a given area. As soon as
+practicable, fishing was to commence. The second division, made up for
+the most part of the heavier, Diesel-motored vessels, was to lay to in V
+formation about the fishermen to protect them from interference in the
+direction from which the fish were running. The remainder of the fleet
+were to stand by as a rearguard, cover the extreme flanks and maintain a
+reserve.
+
+Before taking leave of each craft as it left to go to its new position,
+Gregory briefly addressed the crew: "Get this, fellows. We're here to
+fish. Not to fight. If trouble comes, let Mascola start it. If he does,
+I expect you to hold your positions. Keep in the clear and use no
+firearms. Remember, what you do to-night, binds me. Play safe. Keep
+cool. But get the fish."
+
+To a man, the ex-sailors understood the seriousness of the situation,
+though there were some who argued against the poor fighting policy of
+letting the other fellow hit the first blow. The radical element,
+however, were soon quieted by the older and more conservative men, and
+all agreed to stay in the clear so "nobody could hang anything on the
+boss."
+
+Tom Howard had arrived with the _Pelican_ when Gregory and Dickie Lang
+returned to the _Curlew_. The fisherman brought the news that the men of
+the alien fleet were in a high state of intoxication. Moreover, they
+appeared to be completely out of live bait.
+
+Dickie smiled grimly. "That means that if Mascola does send them down
+here, he'll just be looking for trouble. If they haven't the bait, all
+they can do will be to try to steal our school like they did before, and
+I guess this time they'll find they're out of luck."
+
+"Met Mascola on my way down," Howard announced. "He was running
+wide-open, heading straight for Black Point."
+
+Gregory frowned. "It's hard to tell what Mascola will do to-night," he
+said.
+
+The _Pelican_ was despatched at once to take her position as the leader
+of the front rank. As the _Curlew_ made ready to get under way, Hawkins
+appeared at the rail.
+
+"Don't forget the press," he called. "If I'm going to do this affair
+justice I've got to be at the ringside."
+
+Gregory moved nearer to Bronson and allowed the newspaperman to
+accompany the party on the speed-craft. Then the _Richard_ sped away to
+see that all the boats were in their proper places. Arriving in the
+center of the fishing area, Dickie Lang watched the men "chumming" the
+fish and suggested they throw out their lines at once.
+
+"I don't like the looks of the weather," she confided to Gregory. "It
+feels like a blow. I'm going to have a look at the glass on the
+_Snipe_." Gregory noticed that the girl appeared worried when she
+returned to the _Richard_. "Dropping fast," she announced. "It may be
+just a squall or it may be a real blow. This is no place for us in
+either case. We must rush the fishing all we can."
+
+Gregory agreed and gave the necessary orders. From the sides of the
+_Snipe_ the lines flashed over the rail. On the instant the albacore
+began to strike. As the _Richard_ bounded away to notify the other boats
+of the order to hurry operations, the girl observed:
+
+"The fish are heading close in all right. They're running from
+something. Now is the time to hit it hard. Oughtn't to take long the way
+they're starting. I must see that the boys have all the barbs off the
+hooks. We have to work fast. And when the blow comes, we'll have to get
+clear of the Diablo coast."
+
+The second tour of the fishing fleet was only partly completed when
+Dickie directed Gregory's gaze in the direction of the point off
+Northwest Harbor.
+
+"Here they come," she cried. "Mascola's looking for trouble just as I
+told you."
+
+Gregory surveyed the bobbing lights in silence as they moved nearer; saw
+the red-lights blur and fade into green as the vessels changed direction
+and headed shoreward; noted one twinkling light running far in advance
+of its fellows; saw it swerve and double again into red and green. That
+meant that the _Fuor d'Italia_ was bearing down upon them. Directing
+Bronson to intercept the Italian, Gregory explained:
+
+"I want to give Mascola another chance. We're not looking for trouble.
+He can lay to the seaward but he's got to give us sea-way to get out if
+it roughens up."
+
+The _Richard_ swung wide and came abreast the _Fuor d'Italia_. Then it
+came to Mascola that the strange craft on his left had some speed. Above
+the roar of his own exhaust he heard his name called in a peremptory
+hail. The hot blood surged to his face and he stepped on the throttle.
+He had no time to talk. He must spot the position of the cannery boats
+and give his men instructions how to break through.
+
+The _Fuor d'Italia_ bounded away with a sullen roar. But before Mascola
+could circle in the direction of the lights of the fleet, the _Richard_
+was again on his rail. Cursing to himself, the Italian advanced his
+spark and pressed hard on the throttle. But though he gained a few feet
+on his pursuer, he knew that he dared not try to make the turn. His boat
+would "turn turtle" or be cut in two by the craft behind.
+
+On the two boats sped through the darkness. The lights of the fishing
+fleet flashed by them like the gleam of switch-lights, seen from an
+express train. Mascola's anger mounted. His men were waiting for orders
+and he had seen nothing of the enemy's formation. A plan formed quickly
+in his brain. It was dangerous of course. But the liquor gave him
+courage. Removing one hand from the wheel, he extended it toward the
+switch-board.
+
+"He doesn't dare make the turn at this speed," Dickie shouted in
+Gregory's ear. "Tell Bronson to watch him close when he doubles to come
+back. He'll head into the swell, to the starboard."
+
+Gregory was giving the boatman the message when he felt Dickie grasp his
+arm.
+
+"He's switched off his lights," she cried. "He's going to try to dodge
+us, running dark."
+
+Bronson had already slackened speed at sight of the disappearing lights
+ahead. Then he put the _Richard_ hard over, and the speed-craft swerved
+with a jerk which left her passengers crowding close against one
+another.
+
+"Give her the gun," shouted Gregory. "Head back. Don't let him slip us."
+
+As the boatman complied and the _Richard_ began to lift her hull from
+the sea, the dark waters ahead were brightened by a phosphorescent
+flash. Directly across their course lay the _Fuor d'Italia_. Twisting
+the steering wheel with only the slightest pressure of his fingers to
+avoid turning the _Richard_ over, Bronson opened the cut-out and stepped
+hard on the throttle. The speed-craft dipped, then raised and bumped the
+_Fuor d'Italia_ beam to beam as she raced by.
+
+The shock of the collision threw Mascola half from his seat and had a
+decidedly sobering effect upon his senses. He had noted his boat tremble
+at the impact and crowd away from the stranger; had felt the straining
+of her timbers. Now he noticed that his motor was missing badly. A loose
+wire probably. He made haste to repair the trouble and switched on his
+running lights. The _Fuor d'Italia_ was too light to take chances of
+roughing it in the dark. As he worked, he heard a voice hail him.
+
+"What do you want?" he demanded angrily. "Damn you, you hit my boat."
+
+The lights of the returning motor-boat drew alongside before Gregory
+answered:
+
+"Listen, Mascola. If you're looking for trouble, this is the place to
+find it. If you're not, you can move out to sea and get as many fish as
+we are. We'll not bother you. There's plenty of albacore over here
+to-night for everybody. If you try to break through us, it will be up to
+you."
+
+Mascola's anger came in a torrent of Italian words. Then he composed
+himself sufficiently to speak in broken English: "This Mr. Bandrist's
+island. He tell me I fish here. He say you go. You stay, you like
+trouble. My men like fight any time."
+
+"Go to it, then," Gregory answered quietly. "And when you see your
+friend Bandrist, tell him for me that he hasn't bought Diablo. He's only
+leasing the land. If he has any more claim to the water than we have,
+he'll have to show us."
+
+Mascola completed his repairs, started his motor and raced away in the
+direction of his fleet with the _Richard_ running close at his side. But
+when he came abreast of the cannery fishing-boats, he made no effort to
+head in.
+
+"He don't want to rough it any more with this one," Bronson commented.
+"I reckon when he looks over his boat it'll mean a job for the shop
+putting in a few ribs."
+
+Mascola returned to his fleet, his cheeks burning with rage. In the
+first preliminary skirmish with the enemy, he realized he had been
+beaten. He had found out nothing of value. Had damaged his boat too, no
+doubt. Well, he'd make somebody pay for it before morning. Circling his
+boats, he gave orders for an immediate advance in the direction of the
+cannery fleet.
+
+Kenneth Gregory looked after the departing lights of the _Fuor
+d'Italia_.
+
+"Score one for the invaders of Bandrist's island," he said grimly.
+"Mascola didn't learn much on his reconnoitering expedition, except that
+we had a better boat than his." Then he turned to Bronson. "Take us up
+to the other end," he instructed. "I want to tell the boys to keep as
+close in as they can so Mascola's boats will have to skirt the reef to
+get by."
+
+When they arrived at the indicated spot and the V broadened according to
+orders, the lights of the alien fleet could be discerned moving toward
+them.
+
+"Here they come," announced Dickie Lang. "Looks as if they were going to
+try to crowd in from the north side."
+
+Gregory smiled. "That's just what I want them to do," he answered. "One
+of the benefits of reconnoitering is to get an idea of just what you're
+going into. If Mascola had taken a good look, he wouldn't have come that
+way."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+BATTLE OF NORTHWEST HARBOR
+
+
+Convoyed by his fishing fleet, Mascola came steadily on. Cruising to the
+seaward of the cannery boats he circled, laid to and critically surveyed
+the bobbing lights in the narrow channel which was flanked on both sides
+by saw-toothed reefs. The fish were coming from the north and west.
+Doubtless the American fisherman already had them well "chummed up" with
+their live bait. He would force an entrance among the cannery boats if
+they did not give way and take their school. He had done it before. It
+was simple enough. Directing his boats to follow, he led them on.
+
+Kenneth Gregory stood in the bow of the _Pelican_ with a megaphone and
+directed the position of the boats which made up his first line of
+defense. His plan of keeping Mascola away from his fishing fleet was
+nothing more or less than just straight football formation, with an
+augmented line to withstand the opposing pressure. The _Pelican_ formed
+the center of the wedge. To her right and left followed the heavy
+Diesel-motored vessels with the _Curlew_ and _Snipe_ guarding the
+extreme ends. Behind the first line came the reserve which closely
+covered the fishing-boats cruising the center area. Every boat was at
+its proper station, awaiting the signal from the _Pelican_.
+
+It came with Gregory's word to Howard: "All right, Tom. Let's go."
+
+He stood at Howard's side as the fisherman whistled for sea-way and
+moved his vessel forward with the fleet flanking him astern in V
+formation. Mascola's boats gave no heed to the signal save to draw
+closer together and slacken speed as they entered the narrow channel.
+
+Again the cannery boats shrieked a warning and the wedge narrowed with
+the waterway until only the bare width of a boat separated the beams of
+the defending vessels. Dead ahead, and only a few boat-lengths away,
+twinkled the lights of the alien fleet. Gregory grasped the rail of the
+engine-house and braced himself for the shock. The next instant the
+foremost of Mascola's boats struck the _Pelican_ a glancing blow on the
+bow.
+
+The heavy fishing-boat quivered from stem to stern from the impact. Then
+the powerful Diesel engine came into play. The drunken skipper of the
+_Lura_ felt his craft being shunted to the side. Before he could gather
+his wits together, another American boat brushed his outside rail and
+crowded him forcibly against the craft he had endeavored to ram. Caught
+between the heavy hulls of the _Pelican_ and _Albatross_, the _Lura_
+grated, beam to beam, her timbers creaking and twisting from the strain,
+her propeller churning the water in a vain effort to break through the
+tong-like grip of the two boats which disputed her passage.
+
+The drunken crew of the _Lura_ surged to the rail with wild cries of
+rage. The air was filled with flying missiles. Came the sharp snap of
+breaking glass and the dull thud of heavy objects hurled from the alien
+craft to the deck of the _Pelican_.
+
+"Stay under cover," Gregory commanded the crew. "Stand by if they try to
+board."
+
+A flying bit of scrap-iron gashed his forehead and caused the blood to
+trickle over his eyes. He wiped it away with his hand and turned to
+observe the progress of the other vessels.
+
+The engagement was now general. Mascola's boats were trying to smash
+their way through. But the V was as yet unbroken. That, he could tell by
+the solid formation of the boats in reserve. They had not found it
+necessary to separate.
+
+The night was enlivened with the shrill cries of the aliens. Gregory
+noticed that there was congestion of lights on his left wing. He
+reflected suddenly that that was where the _Curlew_ was stationed. And
+Dickie Lang was on the _Curlew_. Why had the girl persisted in her
+determination to take an active part in the conflict? Perhaps she might
+be already wounded. Hit by a piece of flying iron or a wine-bottle.
+
+"How about it?" Howard's voice recalled him to his plan of battle.
+
+Gregory looked hastily along his front line. "All right," he exclaimed.
+"Go to it."
+
+The _Pelican's_ whistle shrieked two shrill blasts in reply, the signal
+for every man at the wheel to go full ahead and put his respective craft
+hard over.
+
+Mascola cursed volubly at the increasing jumble of his boats. They had
+already lost their way and were only tending to raise a further barrier
+to his entrance to the fleet. If he rammed, he must ram his own boats as
+well as those of the enemy. It flashed over his heated brain that the
+American had chosen a difficult position for him to break through. The
+narrowness of the sea-way prevented him from engaging them in mass
+formation. Then he became conscious of another fact as two sharp
+whistles sounded above the uproar. His lead boats were being crowded
+back against their fellows with a twisting movement which was carrying
+them in the direction of the reef. The channel had been too narrow to
+break through the solid wall of Diesels. A puff of wind from the
+southeast helped Mascola to make up his mind. Directing a summary
+withdrawal, he sped away toward the reef to pilot his boats again to
+safety from the dangerous shore.
+
+Gregory directed the pivot movement of the cannery wedge until the last
+of the alien fleet had fled from the channel. In the first preliminary
+engagement, the enemy had been beaten back. At what cost he must find
+out at once. As he turned about to signal the _Richard_, a voice which
+he recognized as Hawkins', came to him from the darkness astern.
+
+"Bronson's knocked out."
+
+Leaving Howard to supervise the return of the advance line to their
+original positions, Gregory instructed the sailors to launch a dory over
+the rail of the _Pelican_ and was rowed away in the direction of the
+_Richard_.
+
+Hawkins had but little to tell. The _Richard_ had been plying about
+according to orders, to report any break in the wedge. As she skirted
+the right end close to the _Snipe_, some one had thrown a bottle from
+the nearest enemy craft. It had struck Bronson in the head. The
+_Richard_ had drifted backward. Hawkins had thrown out an anchor. That
+was all. Gregory examined Bronson while Hawkins was speaking. The man
+was not badly injured. But his loss would be a serious one. Without the
+speed-boat, Gregory would be greatly handicapped. He set his jaw grimly
+in the darkness. He could not afford to tie up the _Richard_. He would
+run her himself. Directing Hawkins to pull the anchor, he slid into
+Bronson's seat and focused the rays of his flash-light on the
+speed-boat's starting mechanism.
+
+"Are you going to try to run her?" Hawkins inquired as he tugged at the
+hook.
+
+"I am going to run her. Bronson showed me how. It's taking some chance
+of course. But not so much as tying her up. We've got to have the
+_Richard_, Bill. That's all there is to it."
+
+Gregory started the motor and, proceeding at quarter-speed, set off to
+take Bronson to the _Curlew_. By so doing, he realized, he could
+accomplish a dual purpose, find out about the safety of Dickie Lang and
+leave the boatman in her care. That, he reflected, would give her a
+safer though more inactive role.
+
+The girl greeted him from the rail of the _Curlew_. Not a man had been
+scratched aboard her vessel. Her craft had held the pivot and twisted
+two of the alien boats until they bumped the reef. A man had been
+reported injured on the _Falcon_.
+
+Placing Bronson in the dory, Gregory directed the skiff to be pulled
+aboard the _Curlew_. Then he climbed over the rail with Hawkins.
+
+"Bronson was hurt by a flying bottle," he explained. "Will you look
+after him? I've got to round up the boys and see what's doing."
+
+"You're hurt yourself," Dickie observed as the rays of the cabin lamp
+fell upon Gregory's face.
+
+"Just a scratch," he said quickly. "If you'll look out for Bronson I'll
+be off."
+
+Dickie Lang whirled about. "Look out for this man, Jack. See you later,
+Jones. I'm going with Mr. Gregory."
+
+Reluctantly Gregory consented to allow the girl to accompany him in the
+_Richard_. An instant later they were on their way to round up the
+fleet.
+
+Injuries were few among the crews of the defending vessels. Bruises and
+cuts summed up the physical damage done by Mascola's men. One of the
+boats was leaking, but Sorenson was holding the water easily with the
+pumps. The _Falcon's_ shaft was sprung but the propeller was still
+turning. To a man, the various captains reported that their men had
+obeyed instructions to the letter. No acts of violence had as yet been
+committed by any of the American crews. The ex-sailors, though chafing
+at their inaction, had assumed the defensive throughout.
+
+The next thing was to arrange to oppose Mascola's next move.
+
+"Whatever he does, he's got to do mighty quick," observed Dickie as the
+_Richard_ nosed her way among the albacore fishermen. "It's roughing up
+in the last five minutes and the glass is falling all the time."
+
+"There's only one thing he can do, as near as I can figure," Gregory
+answered. "And that's to come down the harbor channel and hit us from
+the stern. If he does that," he added quickly, "we'll have to be careful
+not to block the sea-way leading into the harbor. My idea is to move
+farther up. Then if the blow does come, we can go out with the wind and
+sea through the north channel."
+
+"That's our best bet, unless it's a nor'wester," she agreed. "We've got
+to keep a way out clear or Mascola will crowd us on the rocks."
+
+The captains of the fishing-boats reported their craft to be better than
+half laden when the _Richard_ arrived alongside. The fish were still
+running strong. In another hour, without interference, they might be
+loaded. At Gregory's direction the albacore fishermen began cruising
+toward the north channel.
+
+The next thing to do was to marshal the fleet to withstand Mascola's
+attack from the rear. Owing to the extreme wideness of the waterway,
+the Italian's boats would now have a better chance. The V must be
+broadened by the boats hitherto held in reserve. They must be brought up
+at once. The rising wind and the roughening sea, added to Gregory's
+inexperience in handling the speed-boat, rendered the mobilization of
+the cannery fleet not only slow, but extremely hazardous as well.
+
+Before his left end defense was complete, Mascola was bearing down upon
+his center.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+A FIGHTING CHANCE
+
+
+Mascola's boats advanced warily, spreading out and covering off the
+defending fleet as they came. It would be a boat to boat, man to man
+fight in the darkness.
+
+Head-on, the opposing fleets collided with a crash which twisted their
+keels and racked their timbers. Lights merged together and became
+stationary as hull locked with hull in a grinding embrace. The alien
+crews swarmed to the decks and leaped across the rail upon the American
+sailors who surged forward to meet them. Fists flashed in the darkness.
+Men met hand to hand. The night was filled with wild cries, the
+trampling of heavy feet, the thud of contact of wood meeting wood and
+flesh meeting flesh. From the center of the struggling mass of men and
+boats came a sudden flare of light which dispelled the dark shadows cast
+athwart the vessels and brought into bold relief the struggling figures
+of the men who battled on the decks.
+
+"Fire!"
+
+The cry was taken up by every throat and echoed down the line. It came
+to Kenneth Gregory on the extreme end of the left wing where he had
+been directing the defense of his weakened quarter, by a
+counter-flanking movement. A boat afire! And right in the center of his
+fleet! When the tank exploded hundreds of gallons of burning distillate
+would flood the waters. But he dared not think that far. Whirling the
+_Richard_ about, and circling behind his line of boats he dashed away to
+face the new peril.
+
+The crew of the _Florence_ abandoned the attack at the first cry and
+surged to the hold to fight the conflagration. A gasoline stove,
+carelessly left burning by one of that vessel's drunken crew, had been
+overturned by the shock of collision, and had fired the bilge. Fanned by
+the rising winds, the flames were licking at the oil-soaked timbers and
+spreading rapidly toward the tanks in the bow.
+
+The alien crew of the _Florence_ fled in a panic of fear. Leaping to the
+rail they flung themselves to the deck of a neighboring craft which was
+already backing away from the ill-fated vessel. From all sides, friend
+and foe alike drew away from the blazing fishing craft. For the time
+being the sound of conflict gave place to the rasp of reverse levers,
+hoarse cries of warning and the labored chug of heavy-duty motors going
+full astern. In the ever-widening cleared space about the ill-fated
+derelict the lurid waters were churned into a roseate foam by the
+frenzied lashing of the heavy propellers of the fishing craft as their
+masters sought to clear the dangerous area.
+
+As the _Richard_ sped on in the direction of the ever-brightening
+glare, Gregory's mind kept pace with the rapid pulsing of the high-speed
+motor. He must tow the blazing vessel clear of the fleet before the
+tanks exploded.
+
+Dodging among the retreating fishermen he grazed the _Curlew's_ hull and
+plunged into the open space. Warning cries sounded above the roar of the
+flames but he did not hear them. His plan, formed on the instant, must
+be put into execution at once. If it failed, the speed of the _Richard_
+would carry Dickie to a place of safety. It was a fighting chance. That
+was all.
+
+Swinging the _Richard_ about, he drove straight for the _Florence_.
+
+"Take the wheel, and stand by," he cried to the girl. "If the tank goes,
+run."
+
+He leaped from his seat as the _Richard_ breasted the blazing hull and
+Dickie found herself gripping the big steering wheel before she could
+utter a protest. Gregory was already in the stern of the _Richard_.
+Grasping the stern-anchor chain of the speed-launch, he caught the
+wire-stays of the _Florence_ and pulled himself aboard, dragging the
+chain after him. For an instant he clung to the rail, shielding his face
+with his arms. Then he scrambled on deck.
+
+Holding the _Richard's_ stern close to the _Florence's_ bow, Dickie Lang
+saw Gregory running across the deck. Saw his reeling figure silhouetted
+against the white glare of the blazing cabin-house. Heard the rattle of
+the heavy anchor chain of the alien fishing-boat. Keeping the _Richard_
+in place with an effort against the wind and chop, she waited. He
+expected her to stand by.
+
+His hair singed by the heat, with blistering face and burning lungs,
+Gregory dropped by the snubbing-post in the bow and tugged at the heavy
+chain and knotted it about the block. Then he made the free end fast to
+the chain of the _Richard_. Running to the rail he threw his body over
+and hung by his hands, searching the air with his feet. Then he felt the
+deck of the _Richard_ beneath him.
+
+Dickie Lang had stood by.
+
+The next instant he was again at the wheel and the _Richard_ lunged
+forward.
+
+"Steady," cautioned the girl. "Don't take the slack so fast. Hard a
+port. Now kick your stern over. That's the stuff. Pay out. Now you've
+got her."
+
+For an instant the _Richard_ quivered with anger to find herself in
+leash by the fiery incubus at her stern. Then she settled doggedly to
+work and the two vessels began to gather way. To the right and left the
+fishing-boats scattered before them. The tanks of the blazing tow might
+explode at any minute. It was best to be in the clear. In the common
+fear of the new danger the contending factions drew apart, friend and
+foe uniting in the universal effort to gain a place of safety. The wind
+caught the blaze and fanned it upward in a solid sheet of flame which
+blistered the varnish of the _Richard's_ stern-deck.
+
+"Get down," Gregory shouted above the roar of the speed-boat's exhaust.
+
+Dickie started to protest when she felt herself jerked roughly from the
+seat.
+
+"There's nothing you can do now. Lie still. Keep your head covered." The
+tone was gruff, the words commanding, spoken by a man. A man who thought
+of the safety of others and placed it before his own. A man who was not
+afraid to take chances. Dickie's heart glowed with pride as she huddled
+in the _Richard's_ cockpit. It was worth while to know a man like that.
+
+Mascola watched the progress of the burning _Florence_ from the deck of
+the _Lura_. His blood-shot eyes gleamed red in the glow from the burning
+vessel and the lust of destruction surged into his heart. He was losing
+one of his best boats. Somebody must pay.
+
+In the light of the fire he saw the vessels of the defense scattered.
+Now would be his chance to crowd through to the fishing fleet. With the
+wind and sea at his back he would pile them up on the rocks. Jumping to
+the _Fuor d'Italia_ he sped away to direct the attack upon the heavily
+laden fishing-boats.
+
+Clear the fishing fleet and shunt the _Florence_ to the rocks with the
+wind and current. For the space of a few seconds it was Gregory's only
+thought. The rising wind at his back was hot with the fevered breath of
+the burning tow. What did it matter if the heat was scorching his neck?
+Only a few boats remained ahead. Then he would be in the clear. If the
+tanks of the _Florence_ exploded he must crawl to the stern and cut the
+tow-line. The crested waves began to slap angrily at the speed-boat's
+hull. Then the _Richard's_ motor began to miss.
+
+"She's all right. Keep down. I can----"
+
+A muffled roar interrupted his words. The hull of the _Florence_ bulged.
+A jet of flame mounted upward from the deck. The engine-house tottered
+and collapsed in a shower of glowing sparks which filled the air and
+rained down into the _Richard's_ cockpit. A stream of burning oil surged
+up from the hull of the derelict and tumbled into the sea, blazing
+fiercely on the crest of the waves.
+
+"Take the boat."
+
+Before the girl could gain the wheel Gregory was fighting his way to the
+stern. As Dickie's fingers closed on the steering-wheel he was slashing
+at the rope spliced to the chain. With blistered hands and burning lungs
+he hacked at the tough strands of hemp with his pocket-knife. The
+threads of the line snapped and crinkled from the heat. The water about
+the speed-craft's stern was on fire. Tottering drunkenly, he bent low
+and held his breath. The rope was more than half severed. The threads
+were already parting from the strain. Then the knife slipped from his
+blistered fingers and fell into the water.
+
+Mascola witnessed the explosion of the _Florence's_ first oil tank with
+a grim smile. The vessel was already clear of the fleet. She could do no
+damage now save to the _Richard_ and her crew. With his eyes fixed on
+the fire, Mascola prayed to his saints that the second and larger tank
+might explode before Gregory could sever the tow-line. Fascinated by the
+sight, he moved farther to windward and watched.
+
+Kenneth Gregory's bleeding fingers tore at the straining fiber of the
+quivering line which bound the _Richard_ to destruction. One by one the
+threads snapped and curled in the heat radiated from the burning vessel.
+
+Dickie Lang huddled in the driver's seat and jerked the hull of the
+speed-craft frantically against the strain of the tow-line. For an
+instant death held them by a single strand. Then the line parted and the
+_Richard_ leaped to safety. The cool rush of air revived Gregory's
+senses and he found himself leaning weakly against the coaming of the
+speed-boat. Then he heard the girl calling from the wheel.
+
+"Mascola's broken through."
+
+He gulped in the moist sea air and groped his way forward. Far astern
+the wreck burned fiercely, bringing into bold relief the frowning peaks
+which fringed the shore-line of El Diablo. As he caught at the rail for
+support he saw the flames leap skyward, blackened by smoke and bits of
+timber. The waves burned brightly about the settling hull. Then came the
+sound of the explosion of the _Florence's_ second tank.
+
+"Mascola's broken through. Can't you hear me? Are you hurt?"
+
+Gregory staggered to the seat and dropped beside the girl.
+
+"I'll be all right in a minute," he said. "Keep going. I can't see very
+well yet. You say he got through?"
+
+"Yes. He's trying to crowd the fishing fleet to the rocks. Look!"
+
+In the light that the burning vessel astern cast upon the waters ahead,
+Gregory saw a confused jumble of boats crowded close against the
+saw-toothed reef.
+
+"Damn him!" he grated. "We'll beat him yet. Slow down. Give me the
+wheel."
+
+Dickie relinquished the steering-wheel with reluctance.
+
+"We ought to be putting to sea," she observed as a sudden gust of wind
+and rain assailed them. "This is a bad place to be caught napping."
+
+Gregory's eyes glowed with the lust of battle. "No," he gritted. "We're
+going to stay and fight. Mascola's not going to win on a fluke if it
+costs me every boat I have."
+
+In a frenzy of activity he threw the _Richard_ wide open and sped away
+to gather his scattered boats for a flank attack upon the alien fleet.
+
+Mascola was in high good humor. His boats were crowding the fishermen
+backward in the direction of the reef. Forced to the rocks they would
+have no chance in the face of the approaching storm. What was the loss
+of the _Florence_ in comparison to the destruction of a dozen or more
+fully equipped fishing vessels, laden to the water-line with their
+valuable cargoes?
+
+Repairing to the cabin of the _Lura_, the Italian refreshed himself with
+a drink. A shout from without brought him hurrying to the deck. Bearing
+down upon him at full speed came the cannery fleet. His vessels were
+broadside. They would strike him full on the beam. Cut his boats in two.
+Mascola shrieked out an order to put about and face the enemy. His
+captains sprang to their respective wheels and battled desperately among
+themselves for steerage way.
+
+Then came the crash.
+
+Skirting the mass of snapping grinding hulls, Gregory shot through with
+the _Richard_ and came among the fishing-boats. Some were already
+grazing the reef. A line from the speed-craft pulled them again to
+safety and launched them around Mascola's rear. Fighting their way
+through the press of the alien craft they circled and renewed the attack
+from the opposite flank. Mascola's fleet was caught broadside between
+the Americans.
+
+The din of the battle mingled with the roar of the wind. Again men met
+over the rail. Knives flashed in the sullen glare from the burning
+_Florence_. Pistol shots echoed above the tumult and the air was filled
+with flying splinters.
+
+Slowly and inexorably Mascola's fleet was ground back. An alien craft,
+reaching the clear space to the rear of the battle line, turned hastily
+about and fled down the narrow channel leading to the sea. Another
+followed. Still another.
+
+Mascola strove vainly with shouts and curses to stem the tide of his
+retreating vessels, but the boats brushed by him and continued on their
+way. Soon the exodus became a rout with hull scraping hull in the effort
+of the alien boats to gain sea-way in the channel.
+
+In a few minutes the last of Mascola's fleet, leaking badly and settling
+low in the water, lumbered by with rapidly pulsing motor in the
+direction of Northwest Harbor.
+
+"We beat him at his own game." Kenneth Gregory repeated the words again
+and again. Blood flowed from a jagged cut in his cheek. His face and
+hands were raw and blistered, but his eyes were shining with the light
+of victory.
+
+In the shadow of the _Pelican_ his arms closed about Dickie Lang and he
+drew her to him. "We beat him," he cried. "You, and the boys, and I."
+
+The girl struggled for a moment, then lay passive in his arms. He was
+delirious from the fire and the battle. He did not know what he was
+doing. Freeing herself with an effort from his clinging arms she drew
+away.
+
+"We must put to sea," she cried. "Before the storm breaks."
+
+Gregory roused at her words and turned quickly away.
+
+"Yes," he answered. "You're right. I forgot."
+
+Within a few minutes the cannery fleet was heading down the main harbor
+channel in the direction of the open sea.
+
+Then the storm broke. Battling desperately into the teeth of the gale,
+the fishing-boats plunged head-on into the curling waves. Lashing the
+sea into white-caps, the wind picked up the water and hurled it to the
+decks in great clouds of choking, blinding spray.
+
+In a last dying flare the flames leaped upward from the charred hull of
+the _Florence_ as she lay pillowed on the rocks. And in the feeble glow,
+only Hawkins, who was looking astern, saw the shadowy outline of a long
+gray boat nosing her way about the island.
+
+The _Gray Ghost_ was running before the storm.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV
+
+THE BANKER AT THE HELM
+
+
+Foot by foot down the storm-lashed, wind-swept channel the victorious
+cannery fleet doggedly fought its way from the Diablo coast and headed
+to sea.
+
+"We've got to lay in at San Anselmo," Dickie Lang shouted to Gregory as
+she guided the _Richard_ skilfully through the buffeting waves. "Some of
+the boats are pretty badly stove up. They're riding too low to try to
+make the mainland. We'd have to buck the storm all the way over. Best
+run before it as long as we can. Then we can gain the lea of the other
+island and head in at Cavalan and leave some of the boats there. May
+have to run a few of them on the beach. We ought to make the little
+harbor on the south shore of San Anselmo in a couple of hours."
+
+Gregory agreed with some reluctance. When it came to seamanship he was
+perfectly willing to leave the management of his craft to Dickie Lang.
+The girl was familiar with the coast of the two islands and had fully
+demonstrated her ability to handle the _Richard_ in a storm. Still the
+idea of running from Diablo rankled in his heart. It looked like
+quitting.
+
+The girl's next words, however, made him feel a little better.
+
+"There would be no use lying in at Northwest Harbor at Diablo," she was
+saying. "The anchorage is too small and Mascola's boats will overcrowd
+it. If you tried to beach anything there, you'd wreck it. At Cavalan we
+can check things up, transfer the fish if we have to and get them right
+out. We've beaten Mascola, hands down, so why should we care?"
+
+It was well toward morning before the last of the cannery fleet
+staggered into the little harbor of Cavalan. Then came the first
+opportunity to reckon the cost of Mascola's defeat at Diablo.
+
+Gregory's first thought was for the personnel of his fleet. In the fight
+with the alien fishermen several of his men had been injured, but as
+near as could be ascertained, none fatally. A number of men had been
+slashed by knives, but the injuries for the most part were only flesh
+wounds. There were many aching heads and bruised bodies. Two sailors and
+a fisherman had been grazed by bullets. One man's arm had been broken.
+
+To a man the various crews made light of their injuries and proudly
+maintained that they had left their mark on many a dark-skinned member
+of Mascola's aliens.
+
+Bronson had partly recovered and was anxiously inquiring concerning the
+behavior of the speed-craft in the storm.
+
+While Gregory directed the transferring of the injured men to the
+better equipped launches, Dickie checked up the material damage
+inflicted upon the tonnage.
+
+On the _Curlew_ Gregory encountered Hawkins. The newspaper man was
+jubilant. The victory over the aliens was just what he needed. He had
+anticipated the outcome and had already sent out a full account of the
+struggle with the aliens over the radio. The people of Port Angeles
+would be reading it in a couple of hours.
+
+As Hawkins assisted Gregory in caring for the needs of the men, the
+reporter hinted that he was on the trail of a bigger story which would
+make all his former journalistic efforts pale into insignificance. But
+when questioned concerning the specific nature of his scoop, Hawkins
+became extremely reticent.
+
+Dickie Lang's report upon the condition of the fishing-boats added
+materially to the cost of the victory. Four of the craft had been jammed
+in the melee and were leaking badly. How they ever made port at all was
+a thing she could not understand. Three of the other vessels had
+sustained bent shafts and broken propeller blades. All the fleet were
+more or less battle-scarred but their defects could be remedied in the
+water. She had set the men to work already. There was a machine shop at
+Anacapa on the opposite side of the island and a marine railway large
+enough to take on the disabled craft. When the blow subsided, they could
+put in there for temporary repairs.
+
+The girl's eyes glowed with happiness as she totaled the catch of the
+fishermen. Every boat was laden almost to its full capacity. With a
+storm coming on and in the face of a probable shortage of fish, the
+success of the night's work would reach a substantial figure.
+
+"It's worth more than you know," put in Hawkins. "Wait until my yarn
+gets into print and I'll show you." He smiled broadly and put out his
+hand. "Then I want my rake-off, Cap. Gregory," he concluded.
+
+"I won't forget you, Bill," Gregory was quick to answer. "Nor any one
+else. I knew the boys would stand by to a finish. They sure came across
+to-night."
+
+He turned quickly to Dickie Lang. "When can we start out with the fish?"
+he asked.
+
+"Figuring to go at daybreak," the girl answered. "Better send Jack a
+message right away so he can be ready for them. They'll have to buck the
+blow so it will be afternoon by the time they get over."
+
+She looked out across the faintly graying waters where brightening
+lights began to appear from the shadowy hulls of the fishing-boats. Then
+she inhaled the air hungrily.
+
+"Look," she exclaimed. "The boys are getting breakfast. Let's go over to
+the _Snipe_ and tie in with them. They've got a man there from the
+regular navy who can surely cook."
+
+Gregory and Hawkins welcomed the suggestion and a moment later they were
+speeding away to answer to the first call for breakfast.
+
+In the lea of San Anselmo, sheltered from the storm in the land-locked
+little harbor of Cavalan, the American fleet rested from its labors. The
+sailors gathered on the decks and greeted the new day over plates piled
+high with crisp slices of bacon and fried eggs. The night had been long,
+fraught with danger and fatiguing toil; but work and worry had endured
+only for the night and joy came with the morning.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Silvanus Rock was nervous and ill-tempered. Consuming his third cup of
+strong black coffee, he rose from the breakfast table and walked to the
+French windows and glared out at the curling waves as they flung
+themselves upon the beach.
+
+His devoted spouse gazed after him with a sigh. "Something is preying on
+father's mind," she whispered to De Lancy, the only son and heir to the
+Rock fortune. "He didn't sleep a wink last night."
+
+De Lancy scowled. "That doesn't give him any license to take it out on
+me," he growled, as he pushed back his chair and lit a cigarette. "When
+I tried to interest him in that new racing car, he landed on me all in a
+heap and----"
+
+His words were interrupted by the entrance of the maid.
+
+"Some one to see Mr. Rock," she announced.
+
+Rock whirled and hurried toward her. Then he caught a glimpse of the
+roughly garbed man who was standing by the desk in his den. Peters had
+arrived at last. The anxious lines deepened on Silvanus Rock's forehead
+and he made haste to join his visitor.
+
+Mrs. Rock pursed her lips as she noticed the stranger. "I can not
+understand why your father persists in having such disreputable-looking
+men visit him in his home," she confided to her son.
+
+De Lancy sluffed the cigarette ashes into his coffee cup, before
+replying. "Well, whoever the 'low-brow' is, here's hoping he'll put the
+old man in a better humor."
+
+In his wish De Lancy was not disappointed. For a short time the visitor
+remained closeted with Rock in the capitalist's den. Then Rock escorted
+his guest to the door and De Lancy noticed that the old man had opened
+up some of his best cigars. It was a good sign.
+
+Silvanus Rock entered the sun-room, all smiles.
+
+"I believe I'll try some of those waffles, mother, if they are still
+handy," he exclaimed. "My headache's passed off and I'm feeling quite
+myself again." He beamed on his son. "And now, De Lancy, you were
+telling me about that new car. It seems to me like a pretty stiff price
+but I guess you might as well go ahead and order it."
+
+When the bank president reached his office some time later after a visit
+to the Golden Rule Fish Cannery, he greeted his employees with effusive
+good-humor. Leaving orders that he was not to be disturbed by any one
+except Mr. Peters, he passed into his private office, dropped heavily
+into a chair and began to figure. His pudgy fingers trembled about the
+pen as he scratched on the pad before him. Then he tore the paper
+containing his calculations into little bits, tossed them into the
+waste-basket and smiled benignly. His latest business venture had
+succeeded far beyond his fondest expectations.
+
+A tap came on his door and Mr. Peters again made his appearance.
+
+Rock surveyed him anxiously. "No mistake I hope, Peters, in the good
+news," he quavered. "Everything's all right I trust."
+
+Peters nodded and drew up a chair close to Rock's side. "This one's
+about the fishing-boats," he said in a low voice. "They got into a scrap
+with the American boats off Northwest Harbor. Bandrist says that
+Gregory's fleet won out. Mascola's lay in at the harbor. The _Florence_
+burned up and a lot of his other boats are pretty well shot. He couldn't
+stop the other fellows at all and they loaded up."
+
+Rock frowned at the news.
+
+"Well, well," he ejaculated. "That is bad. Though not of course as bad
+as it might be. No answer to that one, Peters."
+
+A few moments later when the financier was again alone in his office,
+the cashier entered. "The credit man from the Canners' Supply Company is
+here," he announced. "He's asking for information about the Legonia Fish
+Cannery. Thought I'd better refer him to you."
+
+Rock's thick lips closed grimly. "Show him in," he ordered, and bit
+savagely at his cigar.
+
+Mr. Booker made his appearance at once. "We have a little account with
+the Legonia Fish Cannery," he began. "As it is some time past due we
+were beginning to get a little anxious. A word from you will put us
+straight."
+
+"What's the amount of your claim?"
+
+"Twelve hundred and thirty-five dollars."
+
+The hopeful expression which had leaped to Rock's face gave place to one
+of gloom. Then he asked:
+
+"What is the nature of your claim?"
+
+"Machinery and the labor of installing," supplied Booker.
+
+A gleam of hope entered Rock's beady eyes. "Between you and me, Mr.
+Booker," he said. "The Legonia Fish Cannery is pretty much involved at
+the present time. Their organization is one which might cause you some
+difficulty in securing the amount of your claim. If you care to assign
+it to me for collection I think I can handle the matter satisfactorily."
+
+Booker did not notice the suppressed eagerness of the bank president's
+tone. He was new at the job, replacing the regular credit man who was
+away on his vacation. Perhaps it would be well to accept Mr. Rock's
+offer.
+
+"What fee would you charge for your services?" he inquired warily.
+
+Rock spread out his fat hands with a depreciatory gesture.
+
+"Just between friends, Mr. Booker," he said warmly. "Your firm is too
+well-known by me to make even a nominal charge for so trifling a favor.
+Whatever I am able to do for you in this regard, is yours for the
+asking." Seeing that the credit man was wavering, Rock continued: "I am
+so sure that I can adjust the claim satisfactorily that if you desire I
+will give you my own personal check for the amount right away. Then you
+can forget the entire matter. Mr. Gregory is a personal friend of mine
+and though, as I say, his affairs are somewhat involved, I know that he
+will attend to the matter at once if approached in the right way."
+
+Booker hesitated.
+
+"I'd better call on Mr. Gregory first," he said.
+
+"That will be a hard matter," Rock interrupted. "Unless you care to go
+to the expense of making a trip to Diablo Island. Mr. Gregory left
+yesterday for a protracted stay in the deep-sea fishing grounds."
+
+Booker considered. His firm was very desirous of having him return with
+the cash which was sore needed at the present time. Collecting the claim
+would be quite a feather in his cap. Rock's statements concerning the
+Fish Cannery, he noticed, were somewhat contradictory. But that was up
+to Rock. An account like this, the chances were, would not be worth much
+anyway. He could explain the whole matter to Dunham when he got back.
+
+"All right, Mr. Rock," he said at length. "If you want to buy the claim
+outright, you can have it. I won't assign."
+
+Rock reached for his check-book. A few moments later saw the deal
+closed. When Booker had left, Rock turned to the telephone. When he was
+in communication with the local judge, he said:
+
+"I'd like to see you as soon as possible, Tom.--Yes, it's
+important.--All right. I'll be right down."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Somewhat in advance of Silvanus Rock's breakfast hour, Mr. Dupont
+entered the White Front Restaurant at Port Angeles and made his way
+toward his accustomed table in the sunlit alcove. His favorite waitress
+pulled out his chair and handed him his morning paper with a smile.
+
+"I have a special for you this morning," she announced, "which will make
+your mouth water."
+
+Mr. Dupont smacked his lips with boyish enthusiasm. "What is it?" he
+inquired.
+
+"Corn-fed mackerel from the new Service Market which opened yesterday."
+
+Mr. Dupont raised his eyebrows inquiringly, and the girl explained:
+
+"A lot of service men have started a fish stall in a corner of the old
+California Market around the block from here. They just put in a few
+yesterday but from the way they sold out, I'd say they'd need the whole
+building before long. Our manager got around just in time to pick up the
+last of yesterday's catch. I saved one of them for you."
+
+While the girl attended to his order, the resident manager of Winfield &
+Camby turned his attention to his paper. When the waitress returned with
+the crisply browned fish, she was obliged to speak twice before she was
+able to gain Mr. Dupont's attention.
+
+Hovering about his chair, she watched her patron nibble at the
+carefully-prepared delicacy with his eyes fixed intently upon his
+newspaper. The dimples disappeared quickly from the girl's face as she
+noted that the mackerel were growing cold. Then she turned from the
+table with a sigh. Men did not care what they ate as long as they had
+their paper.
+
+Mr. Dupont finished his perusal of the news and shoved back his chair,
+leaving the special scarcely tasted.
+
+"That was fine," he ejaculated. "Wish I had time to finish it. But I
+have a number of things to 'tend to before going to the office. By the
+way, where did you say that new market was located?"
+
+He rose as he spoke and as the waitress again gave him the location of
+the building he sought, he pressed a substantial tip into her hand and
+hurried to the street. At the entrance to the California Market, he
+mingled with the throng and elbowed his way through the crowd which
+packed a corner of the big building. Then he adjusted his nose-glasses
+and peered over their heads.
+
+Behind a rudely constructed counter of rough boards three smiling young
+men were endeavoring to satisfy the demands made upon them for the
+rapidly disappearing contents of a number of fish-boxes behind the
+counter. All about them were hastily scrawled signs which the public
+read with interest.
+
+    WE HAVE DECLARED WAR ON THE HIGH COST OF LIVING.--FRESH
+    FISH AT FIFTY PER CENT. OFF.--WE ARE DEALING DIRECT WITH
+    THE PEOPLE.--SHOOT SQUARE WITH US AND WE WILL SHOOT
+    SQUARE WITH YOU.
+
+While Mr. Dupont read, another sign made its appearance.
+
+                      "SOLD OUT. COME AGAIN."
+
+Winfield & Camby's office force were surprised to find the manager on
+the job when they reached the salesrooms.
+
+"Send me Mr. Black."
+
+Mr. Dupont's orders were crisp and the publicity man hurried to obey his
+bidding.
+
+"Bring me those clippings on that Legonia Fish Cannery stuff, Black.
+Also the ads in to-day's papers. Have you read that story of the mix-up
+between the Americans and the alien fishermen at Diablo Island?"
+
+Black admitted he had not.
+
+"Get _The Times_ and read it," snapped the manager. "Come alive, Black,
+and as soon as Dalton comes in, tell him I want to see him right away."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was high noon at Cavalan when the _Pelican_ reentered the harbor
+after cruising in the open sea to pick up any words that might come from
+McCoy over the radio. Gregory watched the progress of the _Pelican_
+from the deck of the Albatross.
+
+"Looks as if they'd picked up something at last," he observed. "Hope
+it's from the fleet, saying they arrived at the cannery all right."
+
+"They've hardly had time to make it yet," objected Dickie Lang. "I
+wouldn't expect to hear from them at Legonia for at least two hours."
+
+The wireless operator appeared on deck as the _Pelican_ drew abreast of
+the _Albatross_. "Message for Mr. Gregory," he shouted.
+
+Gregory took the paper and glanced eagerly at the message. It was from
+McCoy and it read:
+
+    Rock here with attachment papers to tie us up pending
+    payment of claim bought by him from Canners' Supply
+    Company. We have until four o'clock to answer. Wire what
+    to do.
+
+Gregory glanced at his watch as he handed the message to Dickie Lang.
+Jumping to the deck of the _Pelican_ he found Tom Howard.
+
+"Tom," he said, "I want you to put to sea at once. Travel a straight
+course for Legonia and keep the radio going all the time. We'll be
+alongside in the _Richard_. Give us the answer you get over the radio by
+megaphone. Perhaps then it won't be necessary for us to go all the way
+over. But if it should be, we've got to get there before four o'clock."
+
+Turning to the radio man, he dictated a message to Farnsworth setting
+forth the situation and instructing the attorney to take whatever steps
+were advisable to stay the attachment. The message was to be forwarded
+to Farnsworth from the cannery. It would give the lawyer time to act if
+he got busy at once.
+
+Returning to the _Albatross_, Gregory went over his plans with Dickie
+Lang.
+
+"I'm going, too," the girl announced. "You are all in. It will be no fun
+driving the _Richard_ to-day. If you do have to go across, you haven't
+much chance of making it on time in weather like this. Especially if we
+have to lag along with the _Pelican_."
+
+"I know it," Gregory answered. "But I'm not figuring we'll have to go
+very far. But if we do have to go all the way we've got to be at Legonia
+before four o'clock. We've beaten Mascola but we'll lose all we've
+gained if we don't beat Rock."
+
+Hawkins sensed that something important was taking place and straightway
+determined to accompany the party. A few minutes later the _Richard_ and
+the _Pelican_ rounded the tip of San Anselmo and headed into the storm.
+Then Hawkins' professional curiosity got the better of him.
+
+"What's the big idea?" he asked.
+
+Gregory explained, concluding optimistically: "I'm not worrying much.
+Farnsworth can fix things up all right. Then we'll go back to Cavalan."
+
+"If he doesn't you can put up a bond for double the amount of the
+claim," Hawkins advised. "That will stay the attachment until you can
+raise the cash. You'd have to get it in person though--and before four
+o'clock."
+
+He looked at his watch.
+
+"You'll have to go some to do that," he said. "If you could cut loose
+from the _Pelican_ it would be a cinch, but of course you've got to wait
+until you get an answer to your message."
+
+For some time the two boats fought their way through the rising waves.
+Then the fishing-boat signaled the _Richard_ to draw closer. Gregory
+listened intently for the words of the man with the megaphone as he
+appeared on the _Pelican's_ deck. The operator's message came faintly to
+them above the roar of the wind.
+
+    Mr. Farnsworth left his office at noon to-day on motor
+    trip to country. Not expected to return until Monday.
+    Little hope of reaching him to-night but will keep
+    trying.
+
+                                                      McCoy.
+
+Hawkins swore softly at the intelligence. It was one-thirty already. Not
+much chance of reaching Legonia in time to accomplish much to-day.
+
+"Tell McCoy I'll be at the cannery before four o'clock."
+
+Dickie flashed a glance at the clock on the _Richard's_ dash at
+Gregory's words. Every minute was going to count. It was up to the
+speed-boat to show what she could do. Opening the cut-out, the girl
+began to get the speed-craft under way. With a roar which drowned out
+the wind, the _Richard_ mounted to the white-capped swells and raced for
+the mainland. There was only one chance in a hundred of making it on
+time. She set her lips grimly and gripped the wheel. If it was only one
+in a thousand, she'd take it--for Kenneth Gregory.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI
+
+THE VALUE OF PUBLICITY
+
+
+"What time is it?"
+
+Gregory huddled to the floor of the cockpit and drew out his watch.
+"Two-thirty," he shouted above the frenzied snapping of the open
+exhaust.
+
+Dickie hurled the _Richard_ into a mounting wall of green water which
+tottered above them. Then she cried through set lips: "Just about
+half-way. We're over the worst of it though. The nearer we get to shore
+the better time we'll make. We're sure going to need it too."
+
+Gregory nodded absent-mindedly. His mind was filled with the problem of
+what he was going to do if he did arrive at Legonia on time. Dickie had
+made a wonderful run thus far, had handled the _Richard_ masterfully
+against wind and wave, had more than done her part. Soon her work would
+be done. Then his would begin. And what was he going to do?
+
+The sum to be raised would have once seemed trifling. What would twelve
+hundred dollars have amounted to three months ago? Now, it looked like a
+million. There was no chance of raising it to-day. He must secure a
+bond.
+
+Rock had played his hand well. The bank president had hit in some way
+upon a plan of injuring him while he was away. And Rock could injure
+him. A tie-up at such a time would rob him of all he had gained by
+beating Mascola at El Diablo. The fishing fleet were loaded to the
+gunwales with albacore. The fish must be worked up at once. A loss of
+even twenty-four hours would render them worthless.
+
+Gregory reflected bitterly that he had other creditors. Had Rock
+obtained other due and unpaid accounts? Even if such were not the case,
+the shutting down of his plant might be the signal for other wholesalers
+to launch a similar attack upon his credit. He realized sharply that he
+was accomplishing nothing. Merely thinking in circles. Hawkins had
+suggested putting up a bond. The newspaperman was doubtless familiar
+with the procedure. Perhaps it could be effected if they arrived early
+enough to arrange the matter. He turned to his friend for enlightenment.
+
+"How long would it take for me to get a bond?" he asked.
+
+Hawkins' usually cheery countenance clouded, as he replied:
+
+"Not long, if you could find a surety company agent in his office. But
+the trouble is this is Saturday. I didn't think of it until you got that
+wire from your attorney. It's a legal holiday for the courts and it's
+hard to find anybody around you want." Hawkins' frown grew blacker as he
+continued: "Then there's another thing. You've got to have the judge
+approve the bond, granting you're lucky enough to get it. And looking
+for a judge on Saturday afternoon is like looking for the proverbial
+needle."
+
+Hawkins placed a hand wearily over his eyes and lapsed into silence.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Jack McCoy was at his wit's end. The fishing fleet from Diablo had just
+arrived, loaded with albacore. The captains reported a rough trip all
+the way over. They had seen or heard nothing from Gregory since leaving
+Cavalan. McCoy paced up and down the dock while he superintended the
+unloading of the fish. What a haul they had made! But what good would it
+do them? The whole plant would be tied up in less than an hour.
+
+He jerked out his watch and looked at it again. It was seven minutes
+after three. Walking to the bay-side, he shaded his eyes with his hand
+and gazed anxiously in the direction of the inlet. Granting that Gregory
+arrived within the next half-hour, what could he possibly accomplish in
+so short a time? All McCoy's efforts to confer with Rock had been
+fruitless. The bank president could not be located and had left but one
+word.
+
+He would be at the cannery at four o'clock.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The low-lying clouds which hung about the entrance to Crescent Bay
+rifted sullenly and exposed the ragged line of rocks which made up the
+jetty.
+
+"Right on the dot," Dickie Lang exclaimed. "I was afraid maybe I was
+too far down. What time is it now?"
+
+"Three-thirty," Gregory answered. "We ought to dock in ten minutes."
+
+"We'll be there in five unless I run into something going down the
+harbor."
+
+"Stop at the municipal dock first," Gregory instructed her. "I'm going
+to run ashore and try to get a bond. Then we'll go on to the cannery."
+
+Hawkins roused himself from his lethargy as they sped down the bay.
+
+"I can help you some," he announced. "I can go on your bond. I own at
+least three times the amount of the claim in real estate in this county.
+That will save us some time. We can get a blank form from a notary and
+have him fill it out. Then all we've got to do is to find the judge."
+
+"Doesn't Rock have to put up a bond, too?" Gregory asked. "He's trying
+his best to damage me. Haven't I any come-back?"
+
+"Don't bank on Rock's bond," Hawkins answered. "He has to put one up,
+but it's pretty liable to be 'straw.' Fellows like him generally have a
+strangle-hold on a little place like this and they are pretty sure of
+their ground before they shoot. The chances are Rock's in the clear with
+a 'dummy' or else his property is all under cover. I'm going to make it
+my business to look the old fellow up and see how he's fixed. Men like
+him don't do anything without a motive. I'm going to try to find out
+what Rock is up to."
+
+At the municipal docks Gregory and Hawkins debarked hastily and ran down
+the main street of the town. Contrary to the newspaperman's fears they
+were successful in finding a young notary in his office. Stimulated by
+the promise of an extra fee, the man made out the papers in record time.
+
+"Where can we find the local judge?" Gregory asked quickly.
+
+The notary shook his head.
+
+"Hard telling," he answered. "He went out a while ago with Mr. Rock and
+one of the real estate men in this office to look at a piece of
+property. Haven't seen Joe back since so I suppose they're still out."
+
+When Gregory arrived at the cannery it lacked ten minutes of being four
+o'clock. Hurrying to the office the party from the _Richard_ encountered
+McCoy talking with a well-dressed stranger.
+
+"Here's Mr. Gregory now," exclaimed the house-manager running over to
+meet his employer. "What luck?" he whispered.
+
+A glance at Gregory's face, however, was all McCoy needed to answer his
+question. The boss had failed to stay the attachment. The plant would be
+shut down and all the fish from Diablo would rot on the docks.
+
+The visitor stepped forward with a smile and introduced himself. "I'm
+Mr. Dalton, of Winfield & Camby," he said pleasantly. "I kind of stole a
+march on you people to-day. Came down to inspect at the firm's request
+and found you all so busy that I just sneaked into your warehouse and
+went to work without saying anything to anybody." He smiled, as he
+added: "We kind of like to do that. With a new firm especially. It
+prevents them 'stacking' on us."
+
+"Have you finished your inspection?"
+
+Gregory put the question with suppressed eagerness.
+
+Dalton nodded. "Yes," he answered. "I'm well enough satisfied. Your
+stuff is fully up to par. Perhaps a little better than some standards.
+If you are willing to hold to your schedule of prices which you gave Mr.
+Dupont I'm ready to tie up with you right now."
+
+A gleam of hope flashed to Gregory's eye.
+
+"Isn't it customary to make a part payment when the contract is signed?"
+he asked.
+
+Dalton smiled and shook his head.
+
+"Ten dollars is enough," he answered.
+
+Gregory's eyes were fixed earnestly on the representative from Winfield
+& Camby.
+
+"Listen, Mr. Dalton," he said. "I've got to have twelve hundred and
+thirty-five dollars by four o'clock or I'll lose thousands. I've got
+fifteen boats outside loaded to the water-line with albacore besides all
+the canned stuff on the floor. I own the building, machinery and
+twenty-five fishing-boats. There's not a dollar against any part of it.
+I guess you've looked me up already and you know I'm telling the truth.
+If you give me an advance of twelve hundred and thirty-five dollars
+I'll close right now and pay you any interest you want. But I've got to
+have the money right now."
+
+Dalton jerked out his watch.
+
+"Hardly time," he answered. "Even if Dupont would O.K. it, which I
+doubt."
+
+Gregory was already at the telephone.
+
+"I'll get him for you. Can you let me have the money if he says it's all
+right?"
+
+As Dalton nodded in affirmation, Gregory's eye fell upon the open watch
+upon the desk. It lacked five minutes of four o'clock.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Mr. Dupont was seated in his private office puffing contentedly at a
+long panatella when the door opened and the publicity man entered.
+
+"What's new, Black? Anything?"
+
+Black smiled and dropped into a chair.
+
+"Nothing new," he said. "It's getting to be an old story. Every evening
+paper in the city copied that fellow Hawkins' yarn in _The Times_ about
+the sea fight at Diablo Island. Why, that man Gregory has enough free
+publicity to elect him to Congress. And he's advertising on the strength
+of it, like a department store. I was around to his service market a few
+minutes ago and people were fighting to get within shouting distance of
+the counter. I'd say he was a mighty good bet right now, Dupont. That
+stuff has the town all lit up. If his output is anywhere near up to
+standard I'd say it would be good business to tie him up and beat the
+others to it."
+
+As Mr. Dupont was about to speak, the telephone bell interrupted.
+
+"Yes," he answered. "On the phone. Hello, Dalton.--What's that?--Yes, I
+get you.--How's the stuff?--It is, eh? How's that?--I see.--What do you
+think?--You would?--All right, Dalton. Sure, go ahead. Drop in at the
+apartments when you get back. I want to have a look at that contract."
+
+Mr. Dalton hung up the instrument and faced about. "You win," he
+exclaimed. "Caught the old man just right. He'd have given me a month's
+vacation on full pay if I'd have had the nerve to have asked for it." He
+wrote the check hurriedly as he spoke and passed it over to Gregory with
+the words: "And now, don't forget that you still have the contract to
+sign."
+
+Gregory took the check with shaking fingers, at a loss for words to
+express fittingly his appreciation of the favor.
+
+A moment later the door opened and Silvanus Rock entered with two
+strangers. The financier was on time. In another few seconds the hands
+of the watch would be pointing to four o'clock. Rock's beady eyes opened
+wider as he took in the occupants of the room.
+
+"I regret that circumstances have forced upon me a very unpleasant
+duty," he began, but Gregory cut him short.
+
+"They haven't," he said. "You guessed wrong this time, Mr. Rock. You've
+come for your money. Here it is."
+
+Endorsing the check, he passed it over.
+
+Silvanus Rock's fat fingers closed about the check and his small eyes
+glinted. For a moment his heavy jaw sagged and the flabby flesh gathered
+in rolls and pressed tightly against his white collar. At length he
+found his voice. "This check is not certified," he exclaimed hotly. "I
+refuse to take it."
+
+Dalton smiled.
+
+"I guess that check isn't worrying you much, Mr. Rock," he said easily.
+"We're both pretty well acquainted with Winfield & Camby's reputation
+and between you and me, I hardly think they would relish any inference
+like that coming from a man in your position here."
+
+Rock gulped, as he recognized the representative of the big jobbers.
+Still he hesitated, rolling the check nervously in his fingers.
+
+Then Hawkins pressed forward.
+
+"Don't urge him to take that check, Cap, if he doesn't want to," he
+drawled. "In fact I think it would make a much better story if he turned
+it down in the presence of all these witnesses."
+
+Rock confronted Hawkins angrily. "Who are you?" he demanded.
+
+Hawkins introduced himself with a happy smile. "I've been wanting to
+meet you for some time, Mr. Rock," he said. "I'm with the Port Angeles
+_Daily Times_. Since coming to Legonia I have become much interested in
+the local fishing situation. As yet there are several things I'm not
+quite clear on. I believe you could enlighten me. What about an
+interview?"
+
+Rock's face purpled, then grew white. His beady eyes shifted nervously
+from one person to another, and focused at last on Kenneth Gregory.
+
+"I'll take the check," he said thickly in a voice that shook with
+emotion.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was some time later when the business of the day came to a
+satisfactory close. Winfield & Camby's representative had departed with
+his signed contract which McCoy had designated as a "gilt-edge
+proposition." The fish were all unloaded and the night-shift had already
+started to work on them. The events of the past two days were beginning
+to bear fruit.
+
+Mascola had been beaten. Rock had been beaten. The sea itself had been
+beaten by Dickie Lang and the _Richard_. All of these things had been
+gone over again and again. Weak from the reaction of the continued
+strain under which they had labored, the quartette of principals in the
+cannery drama slouched deep in their chairs and conversation began to
+lag.
+
+Then Dickie Lang broke the silence.
+
+"We've all forgotten to eat," she exclaimed. "If you'll all come up to
+the house I know Aunt Mary will do her best for you."
+
+Gregory, Hawkins and McCoy accepted the invitation in unison. As they
+followed the girl out, Gregory observed to McCoy:
+
+"I can't understand why Winfield & Camby faced about so suddenly. Why,
+they saved our lives. Who would have thought it?"
+
+"I would," Hawkins cut in. "Anybody would who stopped to think." He
+slapped Gregory affectionately on the shoulder. "Didn't I tell you, Cap,
+that I'd have old Dupont eating out of your hand in less than a week?"
+he challenged. "Old leather-face has an ear to the ground. He's heard
+the rumble of my thunder and he wants to get to cover."
+
+His face lighted with enthusiasm as he went on: "Just wait until the
+lightning begins to play around some of these birds. Then you'll see
+them scamper. I'm going to the city to-morrow to have a talk with the
+C.E. and I've just got a sneaking hunch that I'm going to start
+something."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII
+
+TO SOLVE THE MYSTERY
+
+
+The days that followed the return of the victorious cannery fleet from
+El Diablo were filled with sunshine for Kenneth Gregory. The effect of
+Mascola's defeat was far-reaching, and, magnified by Hawkins' publicity,
+gave to the Legonia Fish Cannery a place of prominence in the public
+eye.
+
+Taking immediate advantage of the growing popular interest, Winfield &
+Camby entered into an extensive advertising campaign on behalf of
+Gregory's product. The brands of the local firm were flaunted on the
+bill-boards of a dozen western agencies. Whole states were placarded.
+Newspapers featured the cooperative enterprise of the service men and
+commented upon it in glowing terms. A current-news company took several
+hundred feet of film illustrative of the industry and the signal victory
+achieved by the Americans over the alien fishermen.
+
+Basking in the reflected lime-light, the Service Market caught on like
+"wild-fire" and taxed the fishermen to their utmost to supply the
+ever-increasing demand for the fresh product.
+
+Gregory's bank balance began to mount. The financial sky was unclouded.
+Success loomed bright upon the horizon.
+
+In the hey-day of prosperity, no one noticed the faint clouds which
+crept upward from the sky-line. Storm-signals fluttered feebly and were
+passed by unheeded. Then Mr. Dupont, of Winfield & Camby, sounded the
+warning.
+
+"You're not getting enough fish," he exclaimed on one of his periodical
+visits to Legonia. "I'm building up a demand for your product which is
+fast becoming national. The way things are going now, you will not be
+able to supply it. Then I'll be out of pocket for my advertising. I'm
+cutting into your surplus every day. In two weeks you'll be down to
+bed-rock. What are you going to do about it?"
+
+As Gregory considered the question, Mr. Dupont answered for him: "You've
+got to have more boats. If you haven't the money to tie up in them right
+now, I'll back you and take a mortgage on your plant. I'm willing to
+stick by you and back you to the limit. But you've got to furnish the
+goods."
+
+Gregory made up his mind quickly. Dupont was right. Things were coming
+his way with a rush. What was the use of losing all he had gained by
+pursuing a policy of playing safe and "shooting nickels"? Men who made
+fortunes on the sea had to take chances. It grayed their hair and seamed
+their faces with premature lines. But that was part of the game,--the
+toll which the sea demanded.
+
+"All right," he said. "Let's get down to business. I'll go back to the
+city with you and we'll fix things up. I know of some boats I can lease
+while Barrows is building the others. Let's go."
+
+From the arrival of the new craft which went to make up the greater
+cannery fleet, misfortune stalked grimly in its wake. Fishing was
+universally poor. The boats were forced to cruise wide areas in order to
+supply fish enough for the cannery and Service Market. Areas which
+placed them beyond reach of the radio and gave Mascola his chance. The
+Italian struck without warning. Angered by the loss of his prestige,
+strengthened by his augmented fleet, he began to hector the extreme
+outposts beyond reach of the wireless.
+
+Then ensued a long period of stormy weather. Owing to new and
+inexperienced crews and the increasing interference of Mascola's men, a
+number of Gregory's vessels were wrecked on the island shores and
+salvaged with great difficulty and expense. With the extended radius of
+his operations, overhead expenses mounted perceptibly, cutting down
+profits and adding to the multiplying worries of the young cannery-owner
+in countless ways.
+
+At the close of one particularly trying day he sat alone in the cannery
+office and stared moodily at a wireless despatch which lay on the desk
+before him. It came from Diablo and reported the arrival of a portion of
+his fleet off the Hell-Hole.
+
+The message was phrased in the most optimistic terms. Fish appeared to
+be plentiful. The weather was fine, the sea smooth. There was no sign
+of interference from any quarter.
+
+Yet the worried lines which creased Gregory's forehead deepened. It had
+been that way often of late at devil island. No matter how clear the sky
+appeared, the shadow of El Diablo bulked dark and sinister across the
+sunlit horizon. Something would happen out there to-night. He felt sure
+of it. He should have gone with the fleet. But how could he? He was far
+down the coast with the new boats when they left.
+
+Diablo, he realized sharply, was getting on his nerves. Were the
+obstacles which he had encountered about the island due to something
+more than a mere defense of good fishing grounds? It was not the first
+time he had asked himself the question. There was something wrong at El
+Diablo. He could not shake off the feeling. As he sat down to wait for
+the evil tidings he felt sure would come, he took up an unopened letter
+from Hawkins which had been on his desk two days. A part of the letter
+caused him to read it the second time.
+
+    "So I got to nosing around and incidentally tumbled on
+    to something which I think may be of interest to you.
+    Would it surprise you to know that Mascola does not own
+    a single fishing-boat? It did me, though I might have
+    known it if I had remembered the federal statute which
+    prohibits any but American-owned fishing vessels from
+    operating in American waters.
+
+    "Rock and Bandrist own the alien fleet. Mascola, you
+    see, is an alien. Bandrist apparently is not. I wish by
+    the way you'd tell me all you can of that bird. I'm
+    looking up Silvanus myself. I'm on the trail of a pretty
+    good story, Cap, if it works out all right. Shouldn't be
+    surprised if I might not drop in on you any time. If I
+    do, I'll want a boat to go over to Diablo. Keep this all
+    under your hat. It isn't censored."
+
+For some time Gregory stared at Hawkins' letter. The information gleaned
+from its contents shed a new light upon El Diablo. Bandrist and Rock
+were in cahoots. Both were interested in keeping him away from Diablo.
+Something was wrong on the island. It was Mascola's job to keep strange
+craft from going there to find out. With the words strange craft, his
+mind flashed to a new tangent. To his half-closed eyes came a vision of
+a long gray hull, running dark, gliding through the water toward them
+like a destructive shadow. Bronson had said it looked like the _Gray
+Ghost_. What was the _Gray Ghost_? Where did she clear from? And what
+was her purpose in putting in in the dark to Hell-Hole?
+
+The questions multiplied with the smoke-wreaths and in the blue haze
+which enveloped him, Kenneth Gregory beheld his vague and intangible
+suspicions gradually crystallizing into three fundamental hypotheses:
+Something crooked was being pulled off at Diablo. Rock and Bandrist were
+back of it. The isolation of the island was threatened by the increasing
+activities of the American fleet in that vicinity. Mascola's opportunity
+was only a means to an end.
+
+Gregory's frown deepened. What Rock and Bandrist were doing at Diablo
+concerned him in itself, not at all. In so far as it related to
+Mascola's interference, however, it was all-important. Mascola was the
+one man who stood between him and his cherished dreams. If Rock and
+Bandrist were behind Mascola, as he imagined, would it not be pursuing a
+"cart before horse" policy to continue his expensive militant opposition
+to the Italian? Why not fathom the motive which lay behind Mascola's
+action? If Diablo held a secret, the guarding of which threatened his
+business existence, why should he not as an American citizen take the
+initiative and----
+
+His meditations were disturbed by a soft tap on the office door. Dickie
+Lang entered.
+
+"I knew I'd find you here," she said. "Smoking yourself to death and
+worrying gray. I've come to take you outside for a while. You'll be sick
+if you go on like this. Forget for a while and come with me. The boys
+are having a mussel-bake on the beach and they've sent for you. If you
+have ever eaten kelp-baked mussels you'll not wait to be urged. The
+grunion should run to-night too, and I want you to see them."
+
+Gregory drew his fingers through his tousled hair and shook his head.
+"I'm sorry," he said. "But I can't go. I'm waiting for a radio from
+Diablo."
+
+"Bosh!" the girl interrupted. "It won't take one of the boys five
+minutes to bring you the message if it comes while you're gone." She
+came closer and placed a hand on his arm. "Please come," she said.
+"Just to please me."
+
+Gregory had no alternative. Leaving word with one of the night men to
+send him any radio despatch at once, he followed Dickie to the beach,
+where the service men sat cross-legged about a blazing fire of
+drift-wood. Gregory sank to the sand beside the dark mound of dampened
+kelp and watched the operations of the chef as he busied himself in
+removing the heavy pieces of canvas which covered the sea-grass.
+
+"It's nature's fireless-cooker," explained the girl as she took her
+place beside him. "You can cook most anything in an oven like that if
+you know how. It's simple enough too. All you have to do is to scoop out
+a hole in the sand and line it with rocks to hold in the heat. Then
+build your fire and let it burn for a couple of hours to get a good bed
+of coals. Cover them with a thin layer of damp kelp and put in the
+potatoes. Another layer of sea-weed, then the roasting-ears. After that
+come the fish, wrapped in paper. Then the mussels, clams or anything
+else you want. When you get them all in, cover the whole thing with a
+lot of heavy kelp and batten it down with a big piece of canvas. The
+whole trick is knowing just when to open the oven. Nothing can burn so
+it's better to leave it too long than to try to hurry things."
+
+Gregory took the tin-plate, piled high with its smoking delicacies, and
+leisurely freed a succulent mussel from its shell. As he placed it in
+his mouth his eyes lit up with genuine pleasure and the anxious lines
+slowly disappeared from his face.
+
+"What do you think of them?"
+
+He could only gasp his appreciation. Dickie smiled at the rapidly
+disappearing contents of his plate. He looked like a new man already.
+Nothing like a mussel-bake in the open air to make people forget their
+troubles.
+
+About the dying drift-wood fire, the service men drew closer together
+and began to sing.
+
+    "There's a long, long trail a-winding
+    Into the land of my dreams."
+
+As their voices rose above the dull boom of the surf, Gregory's thoughts
+turned to the words of the song. The trail had been long. How long and
+how devious, he had never quite before realized. Perhaps it was because
+he was tired and the firelight made him think. The "land of his dreams"
+was still far ahead. Blocked from his vision for the time being by an
+intangible something which lay like a dark shadow across the path.
+
+                   "_Over there. Over there._"
+
+He started and looked involuntarily toward the phosphorescent line of
+breakers. Over there? Once it had meant France. Now it came to him with
+a new meaning. Beyond the gleaming waves he fancied he could see the
+jagged shore-line of El Diablo.
+
+    "And we won't come back,
+    Till it's over, over there."
+
+Gregory's eyes narrowed. When "it was over, over there," perhaps it
+would be over everywhere. Then, and only then, would he reach "the land
+of his dreams." He looked guiltily at Dickie Lang and was glad that she
+could not read his thoughts concerning the end of the long trail.
+
+"What were you thinking of, just then? I never saw you look like that
+before."
+
+It was the eternal feminine speaking.
+
+Gregory shook his head. "I never did look like that before," he said.
+"Because I never thought quite that far. Some day perhaps I'll tell you
+what I was thinking."
+
+The moon, which had shyly appeared over the low brown hills, grew bolder
+and mingled its rays with those of the fire in crowding back the
+shadows. Then a shout came from the water.
+
+"Grunion."
+
+The singing ceased abruptly and the service men scrambled to their feet
+and raced down the beach.
+
+Dickie made haste to follow.
+
+"Come on," she cried to Gregory. "And I'll show you the sight of your
+life."
+
+Following the girl to the wet sands, Gregory was amazed at the
+spectacle. The silver waves were alive with glistening fish. Borne high
+on the crest of the tumbling breakers, they surged to the beach by
+thousands and lay quivering like quick-silver, stranded in the sand by
+the back-wash. With a deafening shout men scrambled to the water's edge
+and scooped them up in their hands. Dickie rushed to the water and
+returned with a small fish, somewhat resembling a sardine.
+
+"Grunion," she announced. "They come up at certain seasons of the year
+to spawn. There are only three places on the coast south of the Golden
+Gate where they run. For three or four nights now while the tide is high
+and the moon full they'll be swept up on this beach and left to lay
+their eggs in the wet sand. If you get closer you can see them standing
+on their tails. You'll never believe it unless you do see it. You've got
+to work fast to get them for they hop along the beach only for a second.
+Then the next breaker takes them out."
+
+Handing him one of the little fish, she continued: "Take him up to the
+fire and look at him. Against a good light you can see clear though
+them. If you had a skillet hot on the coals and threw in a handful of
+grunion you could never have a finer dish. But they won't hardly keep
+over night. For that reason they are good for nothing, commercially."
+
+She paused abruptly and listened. "I thought I heard some one calling,"
+she said.
+
+Turning about they saw three men standing by the fire.
+
+"Maybe it's some word from the boys," Gregory exclaimed. "Let's go and
+see."
+
+At the fireside they came upon Hawkins with two strangers, whom he
+introduced as brothers of his craft. Drawing Gregory aside while Dickie
+conversed with Slade and Billings, he said:
+
+"Listen, Cap. I want a boat and a man to run it who knows Diablo from
+the water-line up. I'm on the trail of the biggest kind of a scoop. I
+can't give you all the dope but I can tell you a few things that will
+open your eyes."
+
+The two men drew farther into the shadows and conferred in low-pitched
+voices, broken now and then by Gregory's muttered exclamations. While
+they talked one of the night men from the cannery hurried on to the
+scene.
+
+"Message for Mr. Gregory," he called.
+
+Gregory took the message and drew nearer the coals. In the red glow of
+the fire, he read:
+
+    From: Launch _Snipe_
+
+                           At Sea. Five miles off Hell-Hole.
+
+    Got into fight with Mascola about an hour ago. His boats
+    drove ours from island. His men drunk and armed with
+    shotguns. Some of boys pretty well filled up. _Curlew_
+    lagged with engine trouble and was cut in two off
+    Hell-Hole Isthmus. Sunk in five minutes by some big
+    boat, running dark. _Albatross_ picked up crew. All
+    saved. Wire what to do. Twelve boats here. Others at
+    Cavalan for repairs.
+
+                                                      Jones.
+
+Dickie's eyes shone angrily at the message. "Damn them!" she cried.
+"They got my _Curlew_." Grasping Gregory's arm, she exclaimed: "There's
+a bunch of the fleet off San Anselmo on the mainland side. There's some
+more a few miles down the coast from Cavalan. They can all make Diablo
+in two hours if you wire them right away. We can go over in the
+_Richard_ and round them up and smash Mascola's whole fleet. What if
+they have shotguns? We have rifles. Come on. What are you waiting for?"
+
+Dickie Lang was breathless. Her cheeks glowed. Her eyes were shining.
+
+Gregory shook his head slowly and looked at Hawkins.
+
+"The _Gray Ghost_ ran the _Curlew_ down about an hour ago off the
+Hell-Hole Isthmus," he said.
+
+The two strangers drew closer and listened intently to the news while
+Dickie chafed at Gregory's failure to get under way.
+
+"That means we've got to be off," exclaimed one of the men. "How about
+going over in that speed-boat of yours?"
+
+Gregory nodded. "That's what I was figuring on," he said. "I'm going to
+send a radio to all my boats within a thirty-mile radius of the island
+to reinforce the fleet and mix it with Mascola off the Hell-Hole Isthmus
+on the north side. While they're busy on that side, it will leave us a
+clear field on the other."
+
+Dickie's eyes opened wide at his words. As they moved away together in
+the direction of the cannery, she cried: "I don't understand at all.
+Aren't you going to help the boys out?"
+
+Gregory shook his head and the grim lines tightened about his mouth.
+
+"No," he answered. "Not this time. That is what Rock, Bandrist and
+Mascola think I am going to do. But I'm going to fool them. There's
+something back of all this that we can only guess at now. Diablo has a
+secret our fathers died to learn. I'm sure of it now. To-night I'm going
+to find out what it is."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII
+
+THE ISLAND'S PRISONER
+
+
+Diablo was steeped in moonlight. For miles about the sea gleamed like a
+mirror. The grim mountains which guarded the shore were robed in saffron
+and checkered with black by the dark shadows of the towering peaks as
+they fell athwart the hillsides and mingled with the darkness which
+hugged the canyons.
+
+From a small cave high up on a rocky canyon wall the figure of a man
+emerged and crept silently into the shadows. Picking his way with great
+caution along a winding sheep-trail, he reached the summit of the hill
+and looked about. The damp sea air fanned his long hair and caused him
+to look in the direction of the fleecy white clouds which were creeping
+upward from the horizon. Soon there would be fog. Then he could continue
+on his way to the brackish spring on the bluff-side overlooking the
+south shore. From there it was only a stone's throw to the beach where
+the mussels and abalones clung so thickly to the rocks.
+
+The thought of the raw shellfish sickened him. For days he had had
+nothing else to eat. Shrinking closer into the shadows of the sage and
+cactus, he waited for the fog. Then he could go on on his nightly
+journey. How many months had he been a prisoner on El Diablo? He had
+lost all track of time. But what did it matter? Soon he would be dead.
+For warm food and a drink of pure water he would almost give himself up
+now.
+
+Borne on the fog-wind came cries and shouts from the other side of the
+island. Perhaps help was coming at last. But no, it was only the
+fishermen fighting among themselves off the Hell-Hole. He had heard them
+many times before across the narrow isthmus. They would only go away as
+they had always done and leave him to starve. The faint pulsing of a
+motor launch directed his attention to the sea.
+
+In the paling moonlight, a gray blot clouded the water, moved slowly
+among the rocks and merged with the shadows. It was the same boat he had
+seen so often in the past. Always it came to the island at night,
+running dark. Once in the bright moonlight he had seen men land on the
+rocks and walk up the beach to a large cave which extended far into the
+cliff. As he had huddled closer into the scant shadows of the
+rock-mottled ledge, other men had come down the trail from the island
+and he had been forced to slide into the chilling waters of a
+grass-grown pool to escape detection. Mother of God, it had been a
+narrow escape.
+
+The fog thickened and he continued on his way to the spring. Creeping
+noiselessly through the brush he reached the trail which led downward to
+the beach. Then he stopped and listened. The soft grating of a muted
+chain caused him to drop lower in the grass and draw back. Silently he
+retraced his steps until he reached the cover of the heavier brush which
+fringed the hillside.
+
+The strange vessel was dropping anchor again in the little cove. He
+dared not run the risk of going farther down the trail. There were
+mussels and abalones around the next point. He would get them. By that
+time perhaps the men would be gone and he could return by the spring.
+The fog settled close about him, blinding his eyes and clinging to his
+shivering body. For a moment he stopped and sucked thirstily at the wet
+grass. Then he crawled on.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Planing high on the glistening waves, the _Richard_ sped onward across
+the moonlit sea in the direction of El Diablo. At the wheel, Kenneth
+Gregory strove to concentrate his mind upon the quest which lay before
+him. But another thought obtruded with ever recurring frequency. Why had
+he permitted Dickie Lang to accompany the party to the island? There
+would be danger. There was always danger at El Diablo. Landing upon the
+island would be an added risk if Hawkins' suspicions had any grounds for
+fact. The girl's threat that she would withdraw her support from the
+cannery if not permitted to go with the expedition, was only a bluff:
+Why had he not remained firm? He knew the answer. There was a look in
+the girl's eyes which he could not withstand. Something in her voice
+which left him powerless to refuse as she had said:
+
+"Our fathers were not afraid. They died in one boat to learn Diablo's
+secret. We've fought together from the start. Don't leave me at the
+finish." She might have added: "If they get you, they might as well get
+me too."
+
+But her eyes told him that. Well, it was too late now to change his
+mind. The girl was here and it was up to him to leave her in a place of
+safety if such could be found upon the island. While Hawkins conferred
+with his two friends, Gregory laid his plans.
+
+He would leave Dickie with the _Richard_. She had her automatic and a
+rifle. They would lay in close to shore on the south shore, opposite the
+Hell-Hole. The island was narrowest there and it was generally in that
+vicinity that things had happened oftenest in the past. That was where
+the _Gray Ghost_ put in, the place too where his father and Bill Lang
+had met their death. With the fishing fleet fighting Mascola's boats on
+the north side the opposite shore of the island might not be held in
+such rigid surveillance.
+
+His thoughts turned again to the girl by his side. The rock-shadowed
+coves would afford a fair anchorage for the _Richard_, even on such a
+night as this. There Dickie could see without being seen. Should danger
+threaten while the landing party were ashore, she must put to sea. He
+must make that perfectly clear to her at once.
+
+As he expected, he encountered stubborn resistance from Dickie Lang. If
+there was anything to be found out, she wanted to be there to see it.
+She was not afraid. She could shoot as well as a bunch of newspapermen.
+What was the idea of leaving her clear out of it? Gregory smiled at her
+slurring reference to Hawkins' two friends. Then he reflected that what
+the girl did not know concerning the real object of the mission to
+Diablo would cause her no worry. Until the party landed at least, he was
+in command of the expedition. And orders must be obeyed.
+
+"You'll have to do as I say," he concluded. "Whether you like it or
+not."
+
+Dickie's lip curled and she turned her head away to hide her face. "All
+right," she answered. "I'll stay on the _Richard_." To herself, she
+added: "But I'll use my own judgment when it comes to running away."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+In the silence of the fog the prisoner of El Diablo crept warily on.
+Deep ravines laced his path and yawned close about the trail. A misstep
+would hurl him to the bottom of the rock-lined gorge which was swallowed
+up in the mists at his feet. Suddenly he stopped and threw himself to
+full length on the ground. Far above him the solid whiteness of the fog
+wall was broken by irregular flashes of blue. To his ears came the sound
+of snapping spluttering flames.
+
+Covering his head with his arms, he crossed himself. The devil was
+speaking from the hilltop. On two other occasions he had heard the
+crackling of the flames near the old sheep-herder's shack on the crest
+of the hill. He had taken the wrong trail. Had gone too far. Worming his
+way down the path he fled from the flashes of blue light.
+
+For some time he retraced his steps in silence, thanking his saints that
+the devil had spoken to warn him from the spot. Then the soft breathing
+of a motor-launch caused him to stop and listen. He was again at the
+bluff-side. Soon he would reach the rocks. The echoes of the motor-boat
+died suddenly away and he groped his way to the edge of the cliff and
+scrambled down the trail.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"You'd better take her now. The fog's getting pretty thick and I don't
+know the shore-line along here."
+
+Dickie Lang took the wheel.
+
+"I don't know it any too well myself," she admitted. "We'll have to go
+mighty slow and feel our way along."
+
+Throttling to quarter-speed they skirted the south shore of the island
+and nosed their way along the coast. At length the girl suggested a
+halt.
+
+"We ought to be nearly up to the Hell-Hole Isthmus by now," she
+whispered. "On the beach along here there should be a lot of tide-water
+caves if we're where I think. Around the next point is the goose-neck.
+We'd better go ashore and have a look. We may be too far down already."
+
+Gregory agreed.
+
+"I'll take Hawkins and Slade and row ashore," he said. "Billings can
+stay with you on the launch."
+
+Dickie's objections were quickly overruled and the canvas-wrapped anchor
+chain was lowered into the water while the dory was pulled alongside.
+
+"Look along the base of the cliff for the caves," cautioned the girl in
+a low voice. "And watch out for your oars. Keep them in the water and be
+sure the wrappings fit tight in the locks."
+
+Gregory nodded and took his place in the skiff.
+
+"We'll be back in five minutes," he said. Then he shoved the dory out
+into the fog.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+From the ledge of rock which bordered the cove, the half-starved man
+pulled the razor-backed mussels from the sea-grass and broke them open
+with his pocket-knife. For some time he ate rapidly. Then he ceased
+pulling at the shellfish and listened. A boat was coming to anchor in
+the cove. He could hear the soft slip of the chain through the chaulks.
+Perhaps they would land on the beach. Then he would be trapped on the
+ledge until they had gone.
+
+Picking his way over the barnacled rocks he started for the beach. As he
+climbed from the ledge, he stopped suddenly and clung to the rocks. On
+the beach at his feet, and only a few feet away, he heard the pebbles
+grate beneath the bow of a boat. The men were already landing. Staring
+into the opaque wall of white, he saw it clouded by three dark blots.
+Followed the rattle of stones, the soft crunch of the sand dying slowly
+away into silence. The men had gone on up the beach.
+
+The man who clung to the rocks climbed noiselessly to the sand, his
+brain burning with one great idea. While the visitors were gone from the
+place he would steal their boat. In the fog no one could find him. He
+could row about the island and be picked up at sea in the morning by
+some fishing-boat. The great chance had come to him at last.
+
+Perhaps the men had left another to guard the boat. The thought caused
+him to draw his pocket-knife. Grasping it tightly in his shaking
+fingers, he crawled silently over the wet sand, feeling for the sides of
+the dory with his extended arm.
+
+Hope danced brightly before his eyes as he touched the boat. Weakened by
+hunger, he rubbed his shriveled limbs and tottered to his feet, waving
+his knife. Then he chuckled aloud. There was no one in the boat.
+
+Throwing the knife upon one of the seats, he leaped again to the sand
+and began to shove. Mother of God, he had no strength. The bottom grated
+noisily on the pebbles. Then the dory slid into the water. Laughing to
+himself, he threw his body over the rail and felt about for the oars.
+
+Men were running down the beach. He had not a second to lose. His hand
+closed upon the oars. He was saved. Tugging feebly at the heavy sweeps,
+he drew them through the water with all his might and the dory moved
+slowly forward. Again his weakened muscles responded to the fevered
+call of his brain. Suddenly he felt the dory strike a heavy object
+ahead. Thrown half from his seat by the impact he dropped an oar,
+regained it on the instant and pushed the skiff away from the launch as
+hands reached out to grasp it. Then he heard the low murmur of voices
+from the motor-boat. As he headed close in to the rocks he felt the
+stern of the dory dip sharply.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Gregory whirled at the sharp rattle of oars and raced down the beach in
+the direction of the dory. Some one was meddling with their boat. When
+he reached the place where they had left the skiff, he found it gone.
+From the waters of the little cove came the creak of oar-locks. Plunging
+into the water, Gregory swam rapidly in the direction of the launch.
+Whoever had taken the boat was heading straight for the _Richard_.
+
+A sharp bump sounded close ahead and Gregory redoubled his efforts to
+reach the side of the launch. Then he narrowly escaped being run down by
+the small boat which had turned and was heading in for the rocks.
+Grasping the stern of the dory as it moved by him, he hung for a moment
+while he regained his wind, striving vainly to ascertain how many
+passengers the skiff carried.
+
+Suddenly he noticed that the oars no longer disturbed the water and the
+skiff had lost its way. Then he heard the sound of shuffling footsteps
+coming toward the stern. Releasing his hold, he swam along the side and
+caught the bow, dragged his body from the water and tumbled into the
+boat. The same instant a heavy oar crashed against the seat close to his
+head and a dark figure flung itself upon him.
+
+It was but the work of a moment for Gregory to overpower the thief of
+the small boat and bind him with the dory's painter. The man had fought
+desperately only for a moment, then collapsed, and gibbering with fear
+had allowed himself to be bound without a struggle.
+
+Turning the skiff about, Gregory started for the launch. Had the man
+landed others on the _Richard_? Surely he had reached the speed-boat and
+had put about. Was he bent only upon stealing the boat or was he only
+one of many who would be down upon them any minute?
+
+Arriving alongside the _Richard_ Dickie hailed him softly.
+
+"Some fellow tried to steal our boat," he explained to the girl. "If
+you'll get Billings to help me get him aboard I'll go back and pick up
+the boys."
+
+Dickie's companion in the launch assisted him in lifting the prisoner to
+the _Richard's_ darkened cockpit where he lay huddled in a heap.
+
+As Gregory rowed away in the direction of the shore, Billings veiled an
+electric torch and allowed its tiny ray to fall full upon the face of
+the quivering prisoner.
+
+"A greaser," he whispered to the girl. "Look. He's scared to death."
+
+Dickie looked quickly at the crumpled little figure. Then she fell on
+her knees close beside the man and peered intently into his shriveled
+face. For an instant she remained motionless staring into the face of
+the trembling captive.
+
+"My God!" she whispered. "It's Mexican Joe."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX
+
+UNDER ORDERS
+
+
+"You have seen nothing of the speed-boat from Legonia?"
+
+Mascola shook his head in answer to the question and reached for the
+bottle which stood on the table in Bandrist's ranch-house.
+
+Bandrist jerked it away. "Cut that out," he said sternly. "You've had
+enough. To-night you have work to do. You must keep sober."
+
+Mascola scowled, glaring angrily at the islander as he went on:
+
+"Mr. Gregory left Legonia at ten-thirty with his speed-boat. There were
+five in the launch. Four men and Miss Lang."
+
+Mascola drew in his breath sharply.
+
+"That damned Lang girl," he began. "She is a----"
+
+Bandrist slid from his chair with a quick movement which carried him
+wriggling about the table.
+
+"Keep your tongue still," he gritted as he towered over the Italian.
+"You talk too much."
+
+Mascola started from his chair, but there was a look in Bandrist's eyes
+which made him drop back. A sneering smile played about the Italian's
+lips but he said nothing. If Bandrist was a fool about a woman, what
+was that to him? He could not afford to quarrel with the islander. Not
+yet.
+
+"How did Peters know they were coming here?" he asked after a moment.
+
+"He didn't," Bandrist answered shortly. "But it is only natural that
+they should come here. Their boats have been fishing along the north
+shore of the island. Your men failed to drive them off."
+
+Mascola flushed.
+
+"My men did drive them off," he contradicted hotly. "Only a few minutes
+ago they returned with other boats. I will drive those off too."
+
+Bandrist smiled insultingly.
+
+"Why don't you do it?" he challenged. "To-night is a time I must have
+something more than talk. I want you to go down and join your fleet at
+once, keep a close watch and if the speed-boat does not arrive within a
+half-hour, let me know immediately."
+
+Mascola made no move to obey.
+
+"Gonzolez is laying in at the goose-neck," he said. "I sent Rossi round
+to join him. The _Fuor d'Italia_ lies in the little cove beyond."
+
+Bandrist's blue eyes flashed. "I can tend to that," he exclaimed. "You
+do what you're told and quit meddling with my business."
+
+"It's my business too," Mascola retorted doggedly. "Gonzolez is becoming
+angry at the delay. He will wait no longer."
+
+Bandrist walked slowly to the window and stared out into the fog. When
+he faced about an automatic shone dully in his hand.
+
+"Do as I tell you," he ordered quietly. "And do it quick."
+
+Mascola's face purpled. Still he made no move to do Bandrist's bidding.
+"Don't forget," he said thickly, "that there are others who know besides
+you and me. If anything happens to me at Diablo there is one who will
+tell what he knows. I have seen to that."
+
+Bandrist's fingers tightened on the revolver. Then he slowly replaced it
+in his pocket. The Italian might only be bluffing, but it was best to
+take no unnecessary chances. Mastering his anger at Mascola's
+insubordination, Bandrist walked again to the table.
+
+"Perhaps you are right," he said pleasantly. "Let us go on to the
+goose-neck."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+When Gregory returned to the _Richard_ with Slade and Hawkins he found
+Dickie Lang huddled close beside the crumpled figure of his captive. The
+girl was sobbing softly as she listened to the whispered words of the
+little Mexican.
+
+Feeling his way to her side, he placed an arm about her, and drawing her
+away from the other man, waited for her to speak. Then she explained in
+a voice shaken by tears.
+
+"It's Mexican Joe. He was with our fathers on the _Gull_. No one knew it
+at Legonia. He went out with them at midnight and reached Diablo a
+little before daybreak. They left him on the launch while they went
+ashore. He saw them murdered on the beach. The launch was run down a few
+minutes later. Joe was thrown overboard. He struck his head on the
+rocks. When he came to, he heard them searching for him but he hid in
+the sea-grass and escaped to the other side of the island. He's been
+living there ever since in a cave in the hills. It was he who stole the
+gun and provisions from the _Petrel_."
+
+Gregory held the girl close as she told the Mexican's story. For an
+instant tears dimmed his eyes, then melted away before the white-hot
+heat of the blood-lust which surged into his heart. His father had been
+murdered at El Diablo. By whom? He put the question.
+
+The girl's fingers tightened on his arm and she placed her lips close to
+his ear.
+
+"A number of men overpowered them on the beach and drowned them. Mascola
+was with them."
+
+Gregory's jaws locked and the muscles of his body grew tense. Mascola
+had murdered his father and Bill Lang. Releasing the girl, he hurried
+over to the three men who were talking to the Mexican and grasped
+Hawkins by the arm.
+
+"What are we waiting for?" he cried. "While you're talking the man may
+get away."
+
+"Just a minute, Cap," Hawkins remonstrated. "Things are coming along
+fine. Billings and Slade are learning a lot from the Mex. As soon as
+they get him filled up with those sandwiches he's going to show us the
+wireless tower and the cove where the _Gray Ghost_ put in to-night. He
+says there's a cave close by where he saw----"
+
+Gregory shook off his restraining arm.
+
+"What is all that to me?" he flashed. "Don't you know that Mascola
+murdered my father? Let the men go where they will. I'm going after
+Mascola."
+
+Hawkins started at Gregory's words.
+
+"I didn't know, Cap," he muttered blankly. For a brief instant he strove
+to express his sympathy for his friend. Then he gave it up. "Brace up,
+old man," he said at last. "Take a grip on yourself. You can't do
+anything over here alone. Before morning we'll have the whole gang
+rounded up and Mascola with them. I guess the boys are ready to go now."
+
+Gregory shivered in his wet clothes and Hawkins pressed his slicker upon
+him. While the men took their places in the skiff Gregory found Dickie
+Lang. The girl came into his outstretched arms and clung close to him in
+the darkness.
+
+"Take me with you," she pleaded. "Don't leave me here. I can't stand
+it."
+
+He released her gently and shook his head.
+
+"No, dearest," he said softly. "If you were with us I might be afraid.
+And I can't afford to be afraid to-night. Stay close and keep under
+cover. If the fog lifts, pull the anchor and drift in to the shadow of
+the rocks."
+
+"Why don't you tell me what you are going to do?" the girl asked. "You
+know that----"
+
+Gregory drew her closer.
+
+"I'm going to get Mascola," he answered in a whisper. Then his voice
+changed suddenly. "And if I don't come back," he went on. "You'll know
+now that I love you."
+
+For an instant his lips met hers. Then he climbed over the coaming and
+joined the men in the dory. Dickie listened to the soft creak of the
+oar-locks until the sound was no longer audible.
+
+Mascola had killed her father and Richard Gregory. His son had gone to
+bring the Italian to justice. But what could five men do on the island
+against the hordes of Bandrist and Mascola? Who were the mysterious
+strangers who had accompanied them from Legonia? The questions crowded
+close upon one another as they raced through her brain. Then her mind
+surrendered to a single thought,--a thought which warmed her heart and
+took possession of her being.
+
+"You'll know now that I love you."
+
+She whispered the words softly through lips which were still warm with
+the memory of Gregory's kiss. Hope surged into her heart. God was good.
+Breathing a prayer for the safety of the man she loved, she caught up
+her rifle and sat down to wait.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The men from the launch landed silently on the beach and hid the skiff
+among the rocks. Then they followed the Mexican up the trail. Crawling
+through the brush, they halted at length at their guide's direction.
+
+"From the top of the hill," he whispered, "the devil speaks."
+
+Billings caught the Mexican by the arm.
+
+"Come," he said. "Lead the way and the devil will speak no longer."
+
+When the sheep-herder's shack loomed across their path, Slade commanded
+a halt. Then he gave orders to surround the building. As the men drew
+near the cabin the door opened suddenly and a man stepped out. Before he
+could close the door, Slade and Hawkins were upon him. Gregory and
+Billings darted for the open doorway as the light disappeared from
+within. From the fog-shrouded cabin came the sound of muffled blows, the
+quick breathing of men, the rasp of feet upon the creaking floor. A
+choking cry died away into silence. Silence broken after a moment by a
+sharp click. Then another. Slade relighted the lamp and turned to
+examine the two white-faced men who lay handcuffed on the floor.
+
+"Look like 'snowbirds,'" he said. "The two of them haven't the strength
+of one healthy cat."
+
+Passing the men over to Billings with instructions to search them, he
+walked to the radio switch-board and examined it carefully.
+
+"They've got a regular set just the same," he said half-admiringly.
+"They could reach Encinitas with this one all right."
+
+Seating himself on a stool by the board he placed his hand on the key.
+
+"I'm going to try to get the _Bennington_," he said.
+
+Billings nodded. "She ought to be close along shore by now," he
+answered. "If they left when they said they would."
+
+While the search went on the radio spluttered spasmodically. Finding
+nothing of value on the persons of his captives, Billings bared the arms
+of the two men and scrutinized the flesh intently in the yellow
+lamplight.
+
+"Snowbirds," he announced. "One of them's punctured up one side and down
+the other. Other's not so bad. Good business I'd say for them to get
+hold of a couple of fellows like these. They're about the only ones they
+could get to stick in a God-forsaken hole like this and keep their
+mouths shut."
+
+He rose as he spoke and began to move slowly about the room.
+
+"Tell the Mexican to keep a good lookout outside," he instructed
+Hawkins. "Then you and your friend can help me go through the shack."
+
+Gregory assisted mechanically in the search but with little interest.
+The sooner they were through the sooner they would go down to the cove
+where the _Gray Ghost_ lay at anchor. Then he would find Mascola. A
+muttered exclamation from Hawkins caused him to look up quickly.
+
+The newspaperman was handing Billings a cigar-shaped capsule half filled
+with a coarse white powder.
+
+"What's this, Jack?" he asked. "Looks like sugar. Found it in the
+grub-locker."
+
+Billings poured the contents of the capsule into the palm of his hand.
+For a moment he scrutinized it intently. "That's the stuff we're looking
+for," he said quietly. "Though I never saw it in a package like that
+before."
+
+Slade held up a hand for silence and pulled his head-set closer about
+his ears. For a moment his attention was held by the instrument. Then
+his hand again sought the key. When the sputtering of the radio had died
+away he announced:
+
+"Got the _Bennington_. She's about a mile off the goose-neck. They're
+going to land in the next cove. The _Gray Ghost's_ at anchor now off the
+isthmus cove. Mascola's speed-boat passed them in the fog about an hour
+ago. He's lying in somewhere farther down."
+
+He rose as he spoke and began to wreck the radio set.
+
+"Tie those fellows up good, Jack," he instructed Billings. "We don't
+want to be bothered with them down below. We've got to be on our way.
+The boys will be there by the time we get down the hill. What's that
+you've got there?"
+
+Billings extended the capsule and Slade examined it curiously.
+
+"Queer package," he said. "But it's the straight dope."
+
+Hawkins' eyes shone with excitement as he crowded closer to Slade. "What
+is it, Tom?" he asked.
+
+"Heroin," answered Slade quickly. "A refined product of opium. Never saw
+it put up like this before though. When we hit the beach maybe we'll
+learn the idea."
+
+Beckoning Gregory to his side, Slade took from his pocket a deputy
+shield of the United States Customs and pinned it on the young man's
+vest.
+
+"For your own protection," he explained. Then he added: "You must act
+entirely under my orders from now on, Mr. Gregory. Do only what I tell
+you. Nothing more. You have been in the service of the government
+before. You know what it means."
+
+A few moments later the four men followed the Mexican down the trail
+leading to the goose-neck.
+
+Under orders. Do only what I tell you. Nothing more. The words echoed in
+Gregory's mind. Slade did not understand. Mascola was to the revenue man
+only one of many. A man to be arrested and tried. Perhaps acquitted on a
+mere technicality of law or a perjured alibi. Slade did not know the
+Italian. Had Dickie Lang not said that Mascola laughed at the courts?
+Gregory's jaw set tighter as he descended the trail. To-night, orders or
+no orders, he would bring Mascola to justice by the law of the sea.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXX
+
+THE FIGHT IN THE CAVE
+
+
+With the sands of the sea-beach gritting beneath their feet, Slade
+ordered a halt and conferred with the Mexican. Then he whispered to
+Billings: "This is the isthmus bay where I told the men to land. I know
+where I am now all right. Around the next point is the goose-neck. The
+cave Joe speaks of is at the far end of the cove. It has two entrances,
+one from the bluff and one from the beach. Jack Smith's been in it. I'm
+going to send him ahead. Take a look for the landing boats down by the
+water."
+
+Billings disappeared on the instant and a moment later rejoined his
+chief.
+
+"Everything's O.K.," he announced. "The men have landed and are standing
+by for instructions."
+
+"Tell them to carry the dingeys clear of the tide and join me here,"
+Slade directed. "Send one boat back to the _Bennington_ and have the
+skipper move her around to the goose-neck in ten minutes. Tell him to
+nail anything that's at anchor in the cove."
+
+Billings returned in a few minutes accompanied by the men from the
+revenue cutter. Silently they grouped themselves about their chief and
+waited for instructions.
+
+Gregory crowded closer and listened while Slade gave the men their
+orders. The deputies were to be divided. A few of the best trained men,
+familiar with the local topography, were to scout on in advance,
+entering the cave from the bluff-side. The others were to move along the
+beach, surround the main entrance and cut off escape to the water. All
+were to challenge once. Then shoot to kill.
+
+Slade selected his men carefully. When he came to Gregory he said: "Stay
+with the main body on the beach."
+
+It was in Gregory's mind to argue. Slade was throwing him into the
+discard. What chance would he have of finding Mascola at the main
+entrance to the cave? The leader of the advance was already marshaling
+his men about him.
+
+Gregory found Hawkins and the two men walked away from the others,
+whispering together. Hawkins returned alone. When the advance party had
+left Slade checked up the men who remained.
+
+"I'm a man short," he announced. "What became of Mr. Gregory? I told him
+to stay here."
+
+Hawkins shook his head blankly when questioned concerning the sudden
+disappearance of his friend. Gregory might have misunderstood. It was
+not like him to disobey orders. In any case Slade need not worry. His
+ex-captain was used to scouting and had received many citations during
+the war for crossing the enemy's lines. Gregory would be a help to the
+advance if he had gone with them, Hawkins stoutly maintained. Then he
+lied earnestly: "He knows that cave like a book."
+
+Joining the men detailed to enter the cave in advance, when they reached
+the top of the bluff, Gregory reported to the officer in charge.
+
+"Mr. Slade sent me to join you," he said. "I brought him over from
+Legonia in my launch."
+
+Jack Smith hesitated. "All right," he muttered after a moment. "Slade's
+the boss. Take off that slicker. It'll catch on the brush. Follow after
+the others and stay close. Don't do anything until I tell you."
+
+His manner was curt and plainly showed that he was not pleased with the
+latest addition to the party. But Kenneth Gregory cared little for that.
+If the _Gray Ghost_ was at the goose-neck, the chances were that Mascola
+would be in the cave. And Mascola must be given no chance to escape.
+
+As he followed after the others down the winding sheep-trail, before
+Gregory's eyes flashed a vision of his father's battered face staring up
+at him from the canvas bundle on the hatch. Then came the memory of
+Mascola's insolent look of triumph when he had first beheld Richard
+Gregory's son on the wharf at Legonia. Why had he not seen and
+understood before this?
+
+But then, he had had no proof. He reflected bitterly that he had no
+proof now. Only a Mexican's unsupported word that Mascola had stood by
+while his father and Bill Lang were murdered by his men. That was not
+enough. Mascola might be convicted of smuggling but he would go clear on
+the charge of murder.
+
+Gregory shook his head slowly in the darkness. No, Mascola would not go
+clear. He would choke a confession from the Italian with his own hands.
+Somewhere below him in the fog, a girl waited for him to bring back her
+father's murderer. The girl he loved, had always loved, but had never
+known it before to-night. If he failed, he could never face Dickie Lang
+again. But he would not fail.
+
+His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of sharp scuffling ahead.
+Rushing down the trail he came upon the deputies struggling with two men
+in the bottom of a small ravine. As he assisted the revenue men in
+securing their captives, he heard Smith whisper: "Down the gulch, men.
+Take it easy. It's steep. Stay with these fellows, Joe."
+
+The air which sucked through the ravine grew colder as they descended.
+Then the dank atmosphere became strongly permeated with the odor of
+fish. Gregory felt a hand upon his arm.
+
+"Go last," Smith ordered. "Watch the others. Do what they do. No more."
+
+Foot by foot, the men wormed their way over the dry sticks which choked
+the entrance to the cave. Then Smith ordered a halt.
+
+Leaving a half dozen men at the entrance he instructed them: "Watch this
+outlet. When you hear a shot inside, light the signal flares and throw
+them inside. Then you can see anybody that tries to get by you. They're
+going to do the same thing at the main entrance." Beckoning Gregory and
+the two remaining deputies to his side, he said: "We'll go on into the
+cave. Keep close behind me. When I give the signal by calling on them to
+give themselves up, each one of you pick a man and hang to him. They
+haven't a chance of getting out with both entrances lit up and guarded.
+Come on."
+
+The carpet of dried sea-grass thrown up by the high tides, deadened
+their footsteps as they crawled into the cave. For an instant they crept
+on through the darkness. Then a twist in the pathway brought a faint
+gleam of light ahead. Smith flattened to the kelp and wriggled nearer
+with the two men behind him following close. Gregory was the last to
+reach the surface of a table-like ledge of rock which ribbed their path
+and projected outward over the cavern. Crawling abreast of the deputies,
+he raised slowly to his elbow and looked down.
+
+The floor of the cave lay only a few feet below, faintly discernible in
+the yellow light which issued from a hooded lantern. Gregory's eyes
+searched the grotesque shadows which fell athwart the rocky floor.
+
+Were there no men in the cave?
+
+For an instant no sound broke the stillness. Then, from the darkness
+beyond the lantern, came the shuffling of footsteps and three fishermen
+stepped out into the circle of light and dropped to their knees on the
+rocky floor.
+
+Gregory's eyes opened wider. The cavern floor was literally covered with
+fish. As he sought to fathom the strange actions of the fishermen as
+they passed silently up and down the long rows of albacore, the silence
+was broken by an angry snarl and the figure of another man leaped out
+from the shadow. Rushing upon one of the fishermen, he shook him roughly
+by the arm. Then the rays of the lantern fell upon his face.
+
+Gregory's automatic was in his hand as he caught sight of Mascola.
+Holding the weapon close against his coat to muffle the click of the
+hammer, he cocked the revolver and shoved it forward over the ledge. For
+an instant the muzzle wavered, then drew steadily upward until the
+sights were in line with Mascola's waistband. What an easy shot it was.
+He couldn't miss. What was the matter with his trigger finger? His arm
+slowly relaxed. He couldn't shoot the man from the dark.
+
+He'd shoot you quick enough.
+
+I know he would, but----
+
+He murdered your father. He didn't give him a chance, did he?
+
+There was logic in that. The arm which held the automatic stiffened. The
+eyes which glinted over the sights, grew hard, then closed to blot out
+the hated visage. When they opened again, the temptation had passed and
+Mascola was walking again to the shadow.
+
+From the ledge above the cave a bright ray of light followed the figure
+of the Italian. Mascola leaped to cover behind a huge rock.
+
+The same instant the roar of a pistol shot deafened Gregory's ear. As
+Smith fired into the air to give the signal to the men without, he
+cried: "Hands up, men. You're prisoners of the United States."
+
+The flash-light fell from the deputy's hand as an answering shot echoed
+from the darkness across the cave. Smith rolled to his side. "Nail 'em,"
+he gasped, and tumbled from the ledge.
+
+Gregory slid from the rocks and stumbled to the fish-covered floor of
+the cavern. The light from the lantern was suddenly extinguished.
+Dropping to his knee, he shot at the flash of a gun ahead. Dimly to his
+ears came the shouts of the posse fighting their way into the cave. Soon
+the vaulted walls reverberated with the rattle of firearms and the
+darkness was faintly illumined by the light of the signal flares burning
+at the entrances.
+
+Brought into bold relief by the weird glow from the sputtering candles,
+a number of darting figures could be seen leaping to cover behind the
+rocks. From the shadows came bright jets of flame. Bullets whined
+through the cavern, clipping the walls and rattling the pebbles to the
+stone floor. Flattening his body against the slimy fish, Gregory
+wriggled foot by foot in the direction of the big rock which sheltered
+Mascola.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The game was up. Bandrist emptied his revolver in the direction of the
+advancing deputies and drew cautiously away from Mascola. The _Fuor
+d'Italia_ lay at anchor in the cove beyond the goose-neck. The
+tunnel-like passage, which only himself knew, would lead him to the
+beach. While the Italian delayed the attacking party would be his chance
+to take to the boat. In the fog he could make his escape. By daybreak he
+could make the Mexican coast. Then he would be safe. Of Mascola he
+thought but little, save as a means to an end. It would serve the
+Italian right.
+
+Mascola faced about a few minutes later to find himself fighting alone.
+Then he heard the rattle of loose stones dropping from the cavern wall.
+Bandrist was leaving him. The Italian's blood warmed at the islander's
+treachery. Did Bandrist think he was the only one who knew the way out?
+His anger mounted as he climbed the wall and wormed his way through the
+narrow opening. So Bandrist thought to give him the slip, did he? Well,
+he'd show him.
+
+When Bandrist reached the end of the tunnel he crawled out into the fog
+and listened intently. Some one was following from the cave. Jamming a
+fresh clip into his automatic he waited. Then he silently replaced his
+revolver. A shot would only draw pursuit. Perhaps there were men already
+guarding the secret exit. Huddling close to the cavern tunnel he waited
+for the figure of the man behind him to emerge.
+
+When Mascola reached the end of the tunnel he felt himself grasped
+roughly by the arm and twisted to the rocks. Bandrist recovered his
+wits quickly when he recognized the Italian.
+
+"Quiet," he whispered. "You were a long time coming. There may be men on
+the beach already. Where is your boat?"
+
+Mascola nodded his head in the direction of the beach.
+
+"My skiff lies close to rocks by the point," he said. "The launch is
+close by."
+
+Bandrist fingered his automatic nervously.
+
+"We can wait no longer," he said.
+
+As he spoke he began to crawl forward toward the water.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The blue light from the signal flares flickered about the rock behind
+which Mascola had gone into hiding. Gregory reached the shadow, revolver
+in hand. Raising his body to his elbow, he leaned forward and looked up.
+The space which lay between the rock and the cavern wall was empty. He
+was on his feet in an instant. Mascola had escaped. That much was clear.
+But how? Surely not through the main entrance to the beach. He would
+have no chance that way. The sound of the tumult at the mouth of the
+cavern told him that. Neither could the Italian have taken the other
+passage. He would have seen him as he passed.
+
+He searched the floor carefully for a possible hiding-place which would
+shelter the man he sought. Then he raised his eyes to the cave wall. It
+was lined with irregular niches, some of which might be large enough to
+hide the body of a man. In the faint glow from the signal flares, he
+climbed slowly upward until he felt a cool rush of air fan his cheek.
+The air was heavy with fog; laden with the breath of the sea. The cavern
+held still another entrance.
+
+Forcing his body through a cleft in the rocks from whence the breeze
+came, he found himself in a tunnel-like passage. The dry sticks snapped
+beneath his feet as he felt his way through the impenetrable darkness,
+stopping at intervals to listen.
+
+That Mascola had preceded him only a few minutes before, he felt
+reasonably certain. By the time he reached the end of the passage the
+Italian might have gained a place of safety. Why had he not jumped from
+the ledge at first sight of his father's murderer? By now it would all
+be over. His thoughts turned quickly to Dickie Lang. Perhaps the _Gray
+Ghost_ might have come upon the _Richard's_ anchorage in the cove
+adjoining the goose-neck. Perhaps the speed-boat had been run down.
+Would the girl do as she was told and stay on the launch?
+
+His mind a prey to conflicting thoughts and emotions, Gregory crawled on
+through the darkness.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+When Bandrist and Mascola reached the _Fuor d'Italia_, the Italian
+kicked the dory adrift as the two men climbed aboard. "Pull the hook,"
+he cried, "while I start the motor."
+
+"No," Bandrist whispered. "You'd be a fool to do that. The cave was
+filled with revenue men. That means there's a cutter lying in around
+here somewhere. Perhaps at the goose-neck. She would spot you in a
+minute with her search. We must row the launch around the next point at
+least."
+
+Mascola growled his resentment at Bandrist's air of authority.
+Nevertheless he saw the wisdom of the suggestion and hastily brought out
+the long ash oars and fastened them in the brass locks. Bandrist pulled
+the anchor and took his place at one of the sweeps. For some moments the
+two men rowed silently into the fog. Then the islander ceased his labor
+at the oar abruptly.
+
+"Head out," he whispered. "There's a launch ahead."
+
+Mascola's eyes sought to pierce the fog where the dim outline of a
+motor-boat loomed dark across their course. Then he swung the _Fuor
+d'Italia_ about and skirting the point rowed doggedly away from the
+darkened stranger.
+
+The Italian's ugly temper was not bettered by the physical exercise.
+There was no need to row the launch as far as this. If Bandrist was
+going with him, he must learn he was to be only a passenger. The _Fuor
+d'Italia_ did not belong to Rock and the islander. She was his own
+property. He would run her where he pleased and as he pleased. As he
+labored, he formulated his plans.
+
+He would head straight for the Mexican line, keeping well out to escape
+the patrol off San Juan. Daybreak would put him in the little lagoon
+beyond Encinitas. There he would be among friends. He reflected
+suddenly that he had but little money. American gold in Lower California
+would buy much. Without it, even his friends would give him but scant
+comfort. Bandrist, he remembered, never trusted his money to banks, but
+paid his bills in yellow gold which he carried in the coin belt about
+his waist.
+
+The observation gave Mascola comfort. Bandrist had enough for them both.
+He would see that he received his share.
+
+He ceased rowing.
+
+"Far enough," he muttered.
+
+"No."
+
+Bandrist's reply was sharp and decisive.
+
+"Your exhaust can be heard for miles," he said. "The wind is blowing in
+our faces. We must keep at the oars. Then they will think us still on
+the island. If you start the motor now you'll bring pursuit."
+
+Mascola's hatred of Bandrist increased with the quiet tone of command
+with which the islander spoke.
+
+"There is no boat that can catch mine with this lead," he bragged.
+
+"Mr. Gregory's boat is faster than yours for one," Bandrist disputed
+quietly. "The new revenue cutters are faster for others. Why are you a
+fool?"
+
+A hot argument began on the instant between the two men. An argument
+which ended by Bandrist's knocking Mascola to the cockpit.
+
+Mascola lay where he fell for a moment, dazed by the blow. Bandrist was
+not rowing he noticed. Without doubt he had him covered with his
+revolver. Fuming with impotent rage, the Italian growled: "Well, you're
+the boss. It's up to you."
+
+As he struggled to his feet he made up his mind to get square with the
+islander. Again resuming his oars, he rowed steadily until Bandrist gave
+the order to start the motor.
+
+The _Fuor d'Italia_ leaped forward and the cool sea air fanned Mascola's
+flaming face. Settling quietly into his seat he turned his attention to
+the wheel.
+
+He could afford to wait, but only a little longer.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Dickie Lang grasped her rifle tighter and leaned over the rail as she
+heard the soft dip of oars. Then her hold on the gun relaxed. Perhaps it
+was Gregory returning to the launch.
+
+A glance into the gloom to starboard caused her to drop silently into
+the cockpit. Resting the rifle on the coaming she covered the
+approaching boat and waited in silence. To her ears came the low murmur
+of men's voices. Then the oncoming craft veered sharply and faded from
+view. For some time the girl crouched upon the floor of the launch. At
+length the silence of the night was broken by the far-off pulsing of a
+high-speed motor.
+
+She jumped to her feet, her eyes glowing with excitement. Even at the
+distance she could not be deceived. There was only one other craft about
+with an exhaust like that.
+
+Mascola was fleeing from Diablo in the _Fuor d'Italia_.
+
+She sprang to the hood and began pulling on the anchor-chain. Then she
+stopped suddenly. The man she loved was still on the island. Perhaps he
+had been wounded. Maybe killed. And in the meantime, Mascola was
+escaping. For an instant love and hate fought for possession of the
+heart of Dickie Lang. Then the chain slipped through her fingers and the
+anchor dropped again to the bottom. Silently she returned to the wheel
+and sat down to wait. It was the hardest part of all to play. And it
+always fell to a woman.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+When Gregory reached the end of the tunnel he could hear the shouts of
+men and the rapid discharge of firearms from around the point. He must
+be in the cove adjoining the goose-neck. Crawling rapidly through the
+brush he gained the beach. Then he stopped and listened. Mascola had
+evidently taken to the water.
+
+A sudden fear gripped his heart at the thought and sent him racing down
+the beach in the direction of the _Richard's_ dory. His fears for the
+girl's safety abated as he found the dory undisturbed among the rocks.
+Shoving it into the water he rowed hastily for the launch. As the skiff
+scraped the _Richard's_ side, he sprang aboard and caught the girl in
+his arms. For an instant love alone dominated his heart.
+
+"Mascola escaped in the _Fuor d'Italia_."
+
+Dickie's words recalled Gregory to his purpose. The next instant he was
+pulling at the chain.
+
+"I'll take you around the point to the cutter," he called to her as he
+worked. "You'll be safe there until----"
+
+"No." The girl's answer was spoken with a determination there was no
+gainsaying. "I'm going with you," she said in a low voice. "There were
+two men in the launch."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXI
+
+BENEATH THE WATERS
+
+
+As the _Richard_ cleared the point and plunged into trough of the swell,
+a thin column of light filtered through the fog astern and traveled
+slowly over the gray water.
+
+Gregory put the wheel over and began to zigzag as he remembered that the
+_Bennington_ was lying in at the goose-neck. At the distance the revenue
+cutter would be unable to distinguish friend from foe and would take no
+chances.
+
+"Stay down," he called to Dickie. "It's the search from the
+_Bennington_. They may shoot."
+
+The light moved shoreward as he spoke, carefully searching the rocks
+which fringed the coast. Gregory threw the wheel in the opposite
+direction and struck out at a tangent toward the sea. His speed would
+soon carry him beyond rifle range. Kicking open the cut-out, he advanced
+the throttle. The _Richard_ shook with the sudden burst of power, then
+began to plane.
+
+Gregory kept his eyes on the moving rays as he held the launch on her
+seaward tack. The light was moving nearer, but its beams were paling.
+The cutter evidently had not moved from her anchorage. Doubtless she
+would be kept fully occupied at the goose-neck. The next instant the
+fog-wall ahead dripped in the rays of the searchlight.
+
+Gregory's hand flashed to the spark as his foot released the throttle.
+The angry roar of the speed-boat died away on the instant and the hull
+dropped sullenly. Putting about, he started shoreward at right angles to
+his former course.
+
+The whine of machine-gun bullets sounded over his head to the starboard.
+Then the leaden hail was drowned by the bark of the open exhaust.
+
+He had done the right thing that time. To have tried to dodge at speed
+would have turned the _Richard_ over. Now he was safe for a few seconds
+at least he reflected, as he watched the light traveling over his former
+course.
+
+As the rays again bent shoreward he saw a long point projecting out into
+the sea. Beyond the jutting promontory he would be safe. Running a
+course which would carry him clear of the point by a narrow margin he
+settled low in his seat and dashed forward.
+
+The fog-dimmed light hovered about the point as the _Richard_ plunged
+boldly into the focus of its dripping beams. As the launch veered to
+make the turn, the waters astern were splashed by the steel pellets from
+the _Bennington's_ machine-gun. Then the gunner of the revenue cutter
+began to raise his sights. Splinters flew from the _Richard's_ stern.
+The coaming was riddled as the deadly hail moved toward the bow.
+
+The gunner on the _Bennington_ ceased grinding as the launch disappeared
+behind the point.
+
+"I could have got that bird in one more second," he muttered ruefully.
+"If the old man would let us move, we can get him yet."
+
+Gregory threw off the power and hurdled the seat.
+
+"Are you hurt?" he called to Dickie as he hurried toward the stern.
+
+Dickie Lang was not hurt. Only cut by a flying splinter. It was nothing.
+The girl made her way forward.
+
+"Let me take her until we clear the coast," she said. "You gave me the
+shivers the way you grazed that reef off China Point."
+
+As they inclined their ears into the gray mist which enveloped them,
+they caught the murmur of the _Fuor d'Italia's_ exhaust.
+
+Gregory surrendered the wheel.
+
+The girl listened to the rapid-fire pulsations of the boat ahead.
+
+"He's headed out to sea," she said. "And we're going to have to drive to
+catch him with this lead."
+
+Her words were drowned in the thunder of the _Richard's_ motor and the
+speed-launch bounded away to overtake her hated rival.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"The fog is lifting. Soon it will be clear. We must watch closely for
+pursuit."
+
+Mascola grunted a reply to Bandrist's observations. Weather conditions
+meant very little to him at the present moment. His mind was occupied
+with matters of far more importance.
+
+It would be well to know just where Bandrist stood concerning a division
+of his money before they went farther. Now would be a good time to find
+out. He made the suggestion at once that the islander grant him an
+advance of funds until such time as he could obtain his money from
+Legonia and Port Angeles.
+
+"I have no money to spare," Bandrist answered curtly. "You are foolish
+not to have been better prepared. Our business is one which should have
+taught you that. You will have a hard time now to get your money from
+the States."
+
+An angry retort welled to Mascola's lips but he choked it back. Bandrist
+was speaking again.
+
+"Here is one hundred dollars. You are welcome to that. But no more."
+
+Mascola's eyes flashed at the smallness of the sum. A hundred dollars
+would be next to nothing, even in Mexico. Bandrist, he felt sure,
+possessed money in plenty. If there was not enough for two, there would
+be plenty for one.
+
+Mascola made up his mind quickly. He would be the one. He had given
+Bandrist his chance. The islander had tried twice to-night to give him
+the double-cross. Would do it again if he got the chance. But Bandrist
+would have no more chances. Reaching out his hand, Mascola took the gold
+with muttered words of thanks. Then his fingers sought the switch and
+the noise of the motor died suddenly into silence.
+
+"Listen."
+
+Mascola turned quickly in his seat and looked over the stern. At the
+same time his right hand sought his dagger.
+
+Bandrist twisted about, his eyes searching the gray waters astern.
+
+"I don't," he began. But his words ended in a choking gasp.
+
+Mascola's knife had found its mark and the Italian's fingers were
+tearing at Bandrist's throat.
+
+The islander struggled to reach his gun, but he felt his strength
+leaving him. The moonlight shimmered before his eyes, mingled with gray
+splashes of fog. A sharp pain laced his side. His mouth opened and he
+fought hard for air. Heavy darkness began to settle about him. From the
+far-off spaces he heard the sound of rapid breathing. Or was it the
+faint pulsing of a motor-launch? Then the murmur grew fainter until it
+trailed away into silence. Mascola pulled the islander roughly from the
+seat and dragged him along the floor of the cockpit. Then he sprang to
+the wheel and started the motor. There was no time now to get the money.
+The fog was lifting. And there was a boat following.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Clear of the Diablo reefs, Gregory took the wheel and plunged the
+_Richard_ into the shifting wall of fog. Mile after mile he traversed in
+silence, stopping at intervals to listen to the faint pulsing of the
+boat ahead. At length the gray canopy lifted slowly from the water and
+he caught the outline of the _Richard's_ broad hood rising staunchly
+above him in the gloom. He smiled grimly at the sight. The motor had not
+missed a shot since leaving the island. And they were overhauling the
+_Fuor d'Italia_.
+
+He threw the switch again as his eye caught the gleam of the moonlight
+ahead. For some moments he listened intently. But only the soft slap of
+the waves against the hull of the launch disturbed the stillness.
+
+Mascola had escaped him; had noted the clearing and heard the sound of
+pursuit; had doubled back into the fog bank. Anguish took possession of
+his heart at the thought as he reached for the switch. But neither
+Gregory nor Dickie Lang heard the rasp of the starting mechanism. The
+sound was swallowed up in a deafening roar which came from the moonlit
+waters ahead.
+
+"Straight ahead," the girl shouted. "I see him."
+
+Gregory had already thrown in the clutch. In a swirl of white water the
+_Richard_ raised her head proudly, and snorting angry defiance, raced
+across the intervening waves which separated her from her primordial
+enemy. Gregory saw the _Fuor d'Italia_ leap forward in the moonlight,
+noted that the craft had already changed direction and was heading off
+at a tangent, a course which would bring Mascola under cover of the fog
+bank.
+
+Veering as sharply as her speed would permit, the _Richard_ dipped like
+a gull and sped on to intercept the _Fuor d'Italia_. The shifting bank
+of blinding mist hung uncertainly above the shimmering waters less than
+half a mile ahead, dead ahead for Mascola, off Gregory's starboard
+quarter. For the Italian it meant safety. To his pursuer it spelled
+defeat.
+
+The _Richard_ was gaining. Gregory measured the distance with a
+calculating eye. He was going to head the Italian off.
+
+"Swing her to port. Catch him on the beam."
+
+Acting at once upon Dickie's advice, Gregory saw the wisdom of it at
+once. His angling course would have put him into the fog before the
+_Fuor d'Italia_ reached it. Now he would catch Mascola broadside, full
+on the beam. Or at least at an angle which would drive the heavier hull
+through the lighter one.
+
+With seaman's instinct, Mascola sensed rather than saw the _Richard's_
+change of course. If he tried to make the fog he would be cut in two. If
+he deviated a hair's breadth at that speed he'd turn turtle. There was
+only one thing he could do.
+
+He reached his decision in a whirl of the propeller.
+
+Dickie Lang knew his answer.
+
+"Hard a port. Throw your switch."
+
+The words tumbled from her lips in a piercing shriek. Gregory obeyed on
+the second, thinking the girl had lost her reason. The _Richard_ dipped
+with a swerve which threw him violently against the coaming. As he felt
+the heavy hull sinking down into the water he saw that the _Fuor
+d'Italia_ had ceased to plane and was settling sluggishly.
+
+A snarl of disappointment burst from Mascola's lips as he saw the
+_Richard_ did not flash across his bow. A snarl, which changed quickly
+to a cry of rage as he noted that the two hulls were drifting sullenly
+toward each other. Robbed of his way, he could not escape. The _Richard_
+was already brushing the _Fuor d'Italia's_ rail.
+
+In a frenzy of mingled fear and rage, Mascola whipped out his dagger and
+leaped to the cockpit to battle with the hurtling figure that sprang
+from the other boat as the two hulls scraped. Gregory caught Mascola's
+knife arm and twisted it backward, crowding the Italian to the rail. For
+an instant the two men were locked in a swaying, bone-racking embrace.
+Then Mascola felt the oak coaming pressing hard against his knees. He
+was being shoved over the rail by the fury of the heavier man.
+
+Struggling in desperation, there came a gleam of hope. In the water
+Gregory's superior weight would not count. Strength would not count so
+much, without the weight. But a knife would count. Jerking his body
+backward, he lunged downward into the sea, dragging his antagonist with
+him.
+
+As Gregory and Mascola fell to the water, Dickie Lang drew her automatic
+and covering the cockpit of the _Fuor d'Italia_ with her flash-light,
+peered cautiously over the rail. Upon the floor of the launch sprawled
+the figure of a man. His face was turned away from her. The gray
+linoleum was dyed red with his blood. As she watched him, his extended
+fingers twitched convulsively. He was still breathing. But that was
+all. Seizing the rail of the _Fuor d'Italia_ she began to work the
+_Richard_ around the hull of the other craft. She dared not start the
+motor. The propeller might cut the men in the water to shreds. Reaching
+the stern of Mascola's launch she directed the rays of her light into
+the rippling waves.
+
+Gregory tightened his hold on Mascola's wrist as the waters closed over
+his head. The Italian struggled fiercely to free his right arm as he
+felt his body sinking deeper into the water. Then he noticed that his
+antagonist had freed his legs and was moving them slowly upward to his
+stomach.
+
+Locking his knees about Mascola's waist-line in a scissors-grip, Gregory
+began to squeeze. Lashing the water with his feet the Italian jerked his
+head backward and forced it against Gregory's chin. Then he freed his
+left arm and the fingers slid upward to his enemy's throat.
+
+Under the steady pressure of the sturdy legs about his waist Mascola
+felt his strength going from him. With bursting lungs he tore at the
+corded muscles of Gregory's throat. But his fingers had but little
+power. Sharp pains seared his eyeballs. A deadly numbness was creeping
+over his entire body. Then he felt the hand which held his knife arm
+twist the wrist and forced it inward to his body.
+
+Mascola writhed in terror. By a powerful effort he squirmed sidewise and
+checked the onward course of the knife as it came nearer to his side.
+The exertion sent the blood pounding to his temples, left him weak with
+nausea. For an instant his hold on Gregory's throat relaxed. Then his
+fingers dug viciously into the flesh as he felt his wrist being crowded
+closer to his body.
+
+The point of the dagger was scratching at his shirt. In another second
+it would be piercing his side. Mascola knew that the blade was sharp.
+The Italian released his grip on Gregory's throat. With a convulsive
+shudder he dropped his knife. He was beaten. At the mercy of his enemy.
+Better take chances with the courts than sure death at the hand of
+Kenneth Gregory.
+
+Gregory felt the muscles of the Italian relax in a token of submission.
+For an instant his heart rebelled at the turn of the battle in his
+favor. Why not strangle Mascola beneath the surface? Who would ever
+know? The Italian had shown his father no mercy.
+
+Why didn't Mascola fight like a man?
+
+Gregory's fingers reached the Italian's throat. The law of the sea knew
+no mercy.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A feeling of utter helplessness seized Dickie Lang as she stared into
+the moonlit waters. The man she loved was battling for his life beneath
+the surface of the shimmering waves. And she could do nothing.
+
+"God bring him up safe." She repeated the words again and again. Then a
+new fear assailed her.
+
+Kenneth Gregory would never give up. If he came up at all there would be
+blood upon his hands. Justifiable blood. An eye for an eye. And yet, as
+the seconds trailed endlessly by, the girl was surprised to find herself
+amending her prayer.
+
+"Bring him up safe--and clean."
+
+She uttered a choking cry as the bright rays of her light fell upon
+Kenneth Gregory's head. He was swimming slowly toward the launch,
+dragging Mascola after him.
+
+[Illustration: The bright rays of her light fell upon Kenneth Gregory's
+head]
+
+"Hold his wrists."
+
+She noted the lifeless tone of Gregory's voice as she made haste to
+comply with the order. Saw the fingers of the two men clutch the rail
+while they waited for strength to pull their bodies from the water.
+
+Kenneth Gregory pulled himself weakly over the coaming. In silence he
+assisted the girl in dragging Mascola from the water. Huddling on the
+driver's seat of the _Richard_, the Italian leaned against the dash,
+fighting for breath. Gregory stumbled backward and sank to the floor of
+the cockpit, covering his face with his hands.
+
+"I--failed," he gasped. "I had a chance.--But I passed it up.--I
+couldn't do it."
+
+Dickie fell to her knees beside him and threw her arms about his neck.
+"You're a man," she whispered, "One in a million." Then her lips found
+his.
+
+Mascola watched the two shadows blend into one. Silhouetted in the
+bright moonlight, he leaned against the coaming, his lips curved in a
+sneering smile.
+
+From the darkened cockpit of the _Fuor d'Italia_ came a bright jet of
+flame. Then another. Before the echoes of the two shots had died away
+Mascola's body slid from the seat and fell in a heap upon the floor.
+
+Dickie drew her revolver and sprang to the rail. Sweeping the darkness
+of the _Fuor d'Italia's_ cockpit with the rays of her light, she drew
+back.
+
+"Bandrist," she whispered to Gregory through whitening lips.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXII
+
+FOR ALL THE WORLD TO KNOW
+
+
+Silvanus Rock was at the Golden Rule Fish Cannery at an early hour on
+the morning following the raid upon El Diablo. When Blankovitch entered
+the office, he noted at a glance that the face of the capitalist looked
+drawn and worried.
+
+"Any news, Blankovitch?"
+
+The words tumbled eagerly from Rock's thick lips as he caught sight of
+the ruddy countenance of the manager.
+
+Blankovitch shook his head.
+
+"Only the broken message a little before midnight," he answered. "You
+got that. Gonzolez landed. That's all we know."
+
+Rock fidgeted while his eyes roved about the room. "You don't suppose
+anything went wrong?" he hazarded after a moment.
+
+Blankovitch did not think so. The wireless had failed for some reason or
+other. But it had done that before. He was expecting Rossi in at any
+moment. There was no occasion for worry. Would Mr. Rock care for a drink
+so early in the morning? The bank president gulped down the brandy, and
+under the stimulus of the fiery liquor his wavering courage rallied
+perceptibly.
+
+"Had a bad night," he explained. "Didn't sleep a wink. Neuralgia."
+
+The Slavonian nodded sympathetically and the two men lapsed into
+silence. After some time had passed a fisherman entered.
+
+"Rossi's coming in," he announced.
+
+Rock leaped to his feet with the youthful exuberance of a schoolboy.
+
+"I feel like a new man," he confided to Blankovitch, when the messenger
+had gone out. "The brandy was just what I needed. Lack of sleep surely
+pulls a man down."
+
+The manager agreed and together the two men went out to the receiving
+platform to await the arrival of the boat from El Diablo.
+
+When Rossi drew alongside, Rock greeted him effusively.
+
+"How is everything at the island?" he asked. "Have you plenty of fish?"
+
+The fishing captain answered the bank president's greeting with his
+usual shrug.
+
+"_Bonne,_" he said shortly. "Everything's fine. I got some good fish."
+
+Rock was jubilant. His fears had been groundless. Everything was quite
+all right. For had not Rossi given the accustomed signal to that effect?
+
+Blankovitch had already taken the cue.
+
+"If his fish are first-class, we might put them up special for those A-1
+orders," he suggested.
+
+Rock nodded as he noted the stolid faces of the fishermen peering over
+the rail. Rossi had his regular crew. Still, one could never be too
+careful. For a moment he appeared to deliberate. Then he said:
+
+"Good idea, Blankovitch, we're short on high-grade stuff."
+
+The manager moved at once to the receiving-vat and pulled the grating
+over the traveling conveyer which carried the fish into the cannery.
+Then he opened a valve at the bottom of the tank.
+
+"All right, Rossi," he said. "Dump them in."
+
+Rock stood by for a moment watching the fish slide into the vat. Then he
+walked away in the direction of the cannery office. Passing through the
+room where he had conferred with the Slavonian, he entered the manager's
+private sanctuary which lay beyond and closed the door.
+
+In the far corner of the room was a small clothes-closet. To this Rock
+made his way hastily, and, fitting a key in the lock, passed within,
+slamming the door after him. In the darkness of the stuffy cubby-hole,
+his fingers found a small flash-light in the pocket of an old vest which
+hung from one of the hooks. Directing the rays of the light about him,
+he worked his way through the hanging garments and reached the end of
+the closet. For an instant his fingers slid along the inside wall. Then
+a cool draught of air fanned his face, strongly tinctured with the
+smell of the mud-flats.
+
+Swinging the panel shut behind him, Silvanus Rock descended the narrow
+stairway. When he reached the bottom he paused and drew his coat collar
+closer about his neck. The air was damp and cold and the waters of the
+bay were lapping softly against the pilings which supported the
+building.
+
+Grasping the wooden rail of the gangway which led away from the bottom
+of the stairs, the capitalist crept on through the darkness until he
+reached the base of a big concrete storage-vat. Groping for the lock
+which secured the outlet-cleaning-door of the big tank, he unlocked it
+and passed within.
+
+With the water-tight door closed behind him, he switched on the electric
+light. The cement floor of the vat was already partly covered with the
+fish which slid downward from the receiving tanks on the platform above.
+
+Rock listened intently. But only the soft slip of the fish through the
+chute and the drip of the water from the draining-table, disturbed the
+silence. Then he heard the murmur of men's voices from the platform. The
+valve was still open. When Blankovitch closed that, no sound would
+penetrate the vat from the outside world.
+
+He turned his attention at once to the fish. Drawing one of the albacore
+to one side, his fat fingers delved carefully into the fish's belly.
+Then they brought forth a large aluminum capsule and laid it carefully
+on a tin-topped table which stood conveniently near a small
+capping-machine.
+
+For some moments he repeated the operation until all the fish had been
+emptied of their contents and a double row of capsules covered the
+table.
+
+The albacore, he noticed suddenly, had ceased to slip through the chute.
+He frowned at the observance. Surely Rossi had brought a larger cargo
+than this.
+
+Walking again to the intake from the tank above, he listened. The valve
+was still open. There would be more or Blankovitch would close the chute
+and assist him below. Wiping his hands carefully on his handkerchief, he
+walked nervously about the tank. There was nothing he could do but wait.
+There would be no use to fill the cans at present or start the conveyer
+to carry the empty-bellied fish to the cannery floor. Both would
+necessitate the use of machinery, and even electric-driven power made
+some noise.
+
+If the Slavonian was through, why didn't he close the valve and come
+down? The door of the storage-vat opened suddenly and Blankovitch's
+bulky figure staggered within. Rock drew back at the expression on the
+Slavonian's face. All color had fled from the manager's ruddy cheeks.
+His eyes were staring and his heavy jaw sagged.
+
+Then Rock noted that the door was still open. As he made haste to close
+it before questioning the frightened Slavonian, he found the way blocked
+by three shadowy figures who sprang upon him.
+
+"You are under arrest, Mr. Rock."
+
+Silvanus Rock wriggled vainly in the arms of the men who forced him back
+into the tank. In the struggle the light fell full upon the open vest of
+one of the strangers. Then Rock collapsed.
+
+For years he had suffered this nightmare. In his troubled dreams he had
+seen the glittering shield of the revenue men winking at him from the
+darkness. Now it was a tangible reality. He was caught with the goods
+through the Slavonian's treachery. Glaring in sullen anger at his
+trembling manager, he opened his mouth to speak but no word came. Then
+one of the deputies who had made a cursory examination of the vat, began
+to speak:
+
+"Well, Mr. Rock," he said, "it kind of looks like we had the man higher
+up. At the point of a gun, Mr. Blankovitch showed us the way to your
+little office down here. And Signor Rossi brought us all the way over
+from Diablo hidden away among his fish so we could have the pleasure of
+finding out where he sold his cargo. The little ride was worth as much
+to him as it was to us."
+
+Turning to the man who was standing by the Slavonian, he ordered:
+"Better put the steels on him, Jack. I'll take this one while Joe stays
+down here with the stuff."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+When the _Bennington_ entered Crescent Bay followed by the _Richard_
+towing the _Fuor d'Italia_, excitement was rife at Legonia. And as the
+boats came to anchor off the Golden Rule Cannery a large crowd of
+curious village-folk collected on the dock.
+
+The consensus of opinion, in Silvanus Rock's absence, was expressed by
+the local postmaster. There had been another fight at El Diablo and
+"Uncle Sam had stepped in and 'pinched' the whole darned bunch." To that
+opinion, the crowd for the most part concurred though there were some
+who thought otherwise.
+
+It remained for Silvanus Rock himself to upset the truth of the
+postmaster's statement. Scarcely able to credit their sight, the
+villagers saw the magnate of Legonia led forth from the Golden Rule
+Cannery in the custody of strangers. Strangers who spoke and acted with
+an air of authority and displayed shining badges to part the crowd as
+they walked with their prisoner to meet the small boat from the cutter.
+Then came Blankovitch wearing hand-cuffs.
+
+It was some time before the truth leaked out through the lips of a
+newspaperman who was aboard the _Bennington_. Even then there were some
+who doubted.
+
+Mascola killed by Bandrist? Impossible. Bill Lang and Richard Gregory
+murdered at El Diablo and Mexican Joe who had been with them, found on
+the island?
+
+Silvanus Rock a smuggler? Why the very thought was absurd.
+
+But the postmaster was gifted with more sagacity. With an ear trained to
+catch the slightest drift of public opinion, he declaimed after hearing
+all the evidence:
+
+"I ain't much surprised. Kind o' had my suspicions of old Rock all along
+though I never said nothin'. But I allays did say that young Gregory was
+a comin' citizen."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Purple dusk settled closely about Legonia at the close of the most
+memorable day in the history of the village. For a time the streets were
+deserted as the fishermen sought their homes at supper-time to retail
+the latest bits of gossip which were current in the saloons.
+
+Kenneth Gregory's name was upon every lip. No story was complete unless
+he figured in it. The Golden Rule Cannery had been closed until further
+notice. Gregory had bought all the fish brought in by the alien fleet.
+His wharves were piled high with fish-boxes. His vats were full of
+albacore. He was going to give everybody a chance if they "shot square"
+and became American citizens. Rock and Blankovitch had been taken with
+the men from Diablo Island to the jail at the county-seat. The body of
+Mascola was still in the custody of the local undertaker and Bandrist
+had been removed to a hospital. But of the men themselves little was
+said. An era of universal friendliness prevailed throughout the village.
+
+At the Lang cottage Aunt Mary was striving vainly to assemble her guests
+about the table for the evening meal.
+
+"The biscuits will be ruined," she pleaded. "Leave the talk go. You've
+all talked yourselves half-sick now."
+
+Jack McCoy protested as Miss Lang led him to the table.
+
+"Remember, I wasn't there," he said. "And I've got a lot to find out
+before I get caught up."
+
+Hawkins slid into a chair by McCoy.
+
+"Well that's about all there is to it, Mac," he said. "Except that the
+_Gray Ghost_ made a clean get-away in the fog. You see the Custom House
+has been wise to her for a long time but they never could catch her with
+the goods. For some time there has been a lot of dope floating around in
+tuna cans so they kind of laid it to some fish cannery. In talking it
+over with Cap. I began to look this fellow, Rock, up. And I found among
+other things, that he didn't have a dollar until a few years ago. He
+made his money quick, and as far as we knew, right here in town. Then,
+this Diablo stuff gave me a hunch."
+
+Gregory looked up quickly at the mention of the island.
+
+"Easy on the Diablo stuff, Bill," he cautioned. "Aunt Mary doesn't know
+much about that."
+
+When supper was over, Jack McCoy rose hastily.
+
+"I must be getting back," he said. "We have a big night-shift and fish
+to burn. And they will burn unless I'm on the job."
+
+Gregory followed him to the door.
+
+"I'll be down pretty quick, Jack," he said. "I want to see Miss Lang a
+minute before I go."
+
+A crooked little smile twisted the corners of McCoy's mouth and for a
+moment he looked deep into Gregory's eyes.
+
+"I suppose congratulations are in order," he began somewhat uncertainly,
+and seeing that Gregory made no denial, he put out his hand. "I hope
+you'll both be happy," he said slowly.
+
+Then he turned quickly and hurried out the door. Hawkins hurried after
+him.
+
+"I guess I'll go down with McCoy," he explained. "I want to keep near a
+phone." Then he turned to Aunt Mary. "In to-morrow's _Times_ you'll get
+the latest details of the secret of El Diablo," he said as he bade her
+good night.
+
+When Hawkins had gone out and Aunt Mary had retired to the kitchen,
+Gregory exclaimed to Dickie Lang in a low voice:
+
+"There's one secret she won't get in _The Times_. She won't have to wait
+that long. For I'm going to tell her now."
+
+"You'd better not," answered the girl. "You would have to shout. She's
+unusually deaf to-night. All the neighbors would hear."
+
+"That's what I want," Gregory cried as he walked to the kitchen with
+Dickie following close behind.
+
+In the semi-darkness of the little pantry-closet he took the girl in his
+arms.
+
+"It's the only secret I'd never be able to keep," he confessed. "And I
+want the whole world to hear it."
+
+Pushing aside the swinging-door, he went into the kitchen to tell Aunt
+Mary.
+
+[Illustration: In the semi-darkness of the little pantry-closet]
+
+THE END
+
+
+[Transcriber's Notes: Punctuation errors have been corrected and hyphen
+usage made consistent. Illustrations (excepting frontispiece) have been
+moved from their original page locations to the paragraph which they
+illustrate. Printer's errors have been corrected as follows:
+ Page 7: Dois amended to Dios (Gracious a Dios)
+ Page 49: bare-booted amended to bare-footed (bare-footed fishermen)
+ Page 67: speak amended to speck (speck on the horizon)
+ Page 81: do amended to go (to go down anyway)
+ Page 82: run amended to ran (He ran his boats)
+ Page 148: be amended to he (he began to fall down)
+ Page 171: slippel amended to slipped (slipped a hand into his pocket)
+ Page 173: furinor amended to furrinor (bossed around by a "furrinor")
+ Page 182: rememberance amended to remembrance (a sharp remembrance)
+ Page 205: unimpeachible amended to unimpeachable
+           (unimpeachable standing)
+ Page 225: Back amended to Black (together off Black Point)
+ Page 278: lose amended to loose (cut loose from the _Pelican_)
+ Page 279: she's amended to she'd (she'd take it)
+ Page 293: preceptibly amended to perceptibly
+           (expenses mounted perceptibly)
+ Page 313: jibbering amended to gibbering (gibbering with fear)
+ Page 328: order amended to ordered (Smith ordered.)
+ Page 331: extra "the" removed (darkness across the cave)
+ Page 347: died amended to dyed (dyed red with his blood)
+ Page 357: steals amended to steels (put the steels on him)
+Errors in foreign language spelling (_Gracious a Dios_ and _Sangre de
+Christo_) have been retained.]
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of El Diablo, by Brayton Norton
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