El Diablo

  CHAPTER XII

  A WARNING

  From the _Petrel's_ sloping deck they saw the horsemen appear in boldsilhouette against the sky-line. Swinging from their saddles they walkedto meet a white-shirted rider who galloped over the ridge and drew reinamong them.

  The newcomer remained astride his horse. Resting an arm on the horn ofhis saddle, he stared into the little cove through his binoculars.Satisfied apparently by what he saw, he dismounted and walked rapidlytoward the trail leading to the beach, the men following after him. Asthey took their way down the cliff Gregory noticed that some of the mencarried rifles. When they reached the beach the white-shirted man walkedon alone, and without a backward glance, traversed the rocks in thedirection of the wreck.

  "He walks like a king," commented Dickie Lang. "I wonder if that isBandrist."

  Gregory noted the clean-cut figure of the stranger carefully. The manwas about his own height though of slighter build, the spareness of hisfigure being emphasized by the close-fitting riding-trousers and thethin silk shirt which fluttered about him as he strode along. Thefair-haired stranger stopped abruptly when he reached the _Petrel's_side. Flinging an arm upward with a careless gesture, and lookingstraight 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 canspeak English at least."

  The visitor smiled as he caught the mast-stay and drew himselfgracefully over the rail.

  "I am Leo Bandrist," he introduced. "I fear my men have caused you someannoyance. I am sorry."

  Dickie rehearsed the incidents leading up to the trouble with thenatives and when she had concluded, Bandrist's forehead wrinkled in afrown.

  "I am very sorry," he repeated. "My men, you see, are very stupid. Veryignorant. They understand but little English. Then, too, I have beenannoyed by others. You see, I have many sheep and wild goats upon theisland. Hunters come to shoot the goats, but they often mistake my sheepfor them. Fishermen also have caused me great trouble. I have fenced mylands to keep them out; put up the signs the law tells me I must toprotect myself. But no, they disregard my rights. So I give my meninstructions to keep them out. When my rangers are opposed they growugly. 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 seriouslyinjured."

  "Small thanks to you," Dickie snapped. "Your men tried hard enough tocommit murder." Nodding in the direction of the unconscious islander,she added: "There's one of your outfit stretched out over there. Anotherwas half-drowned. The third tried to knife Mr. Gregory. I hit him in thehead with a monkey-wrench. They both got away or were washed off theledge."

  Bandrist shot a quick glance at Gregory as the girl mentioned thecannery owner's name. At the girl's reference to her part in the affairhis eyes lighted with interest. Then the frown came again to his face.

  "That is the trouble," he said quickly. "My men do not understand. Theyknow only one way to fight. That is to win. If you will permit me, Ishall summon the others to care for their companion."

  He waited for the girl's consent. Then he waved his hand to the men onthe beach. When they were within ear-shot, Bandrist addressed themrapidly, nodding toward the spot indicated by Dickie Lang. As the menhurried away, he explained:

  "They come to me from many countries. Some of them are bad and cause memuch trouble. It is so lonesome out here that I can not keep good men. Itell my fence-riders only to keep people away so that they will not killmy sheep. Some of them I arm as you see, because those who hunt alsocarry 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 thatyou are undisturbed, if you will promise to leave the island when youare through. You see I do not want any more trouble," he concluded withfrank emphasis. "My men will be very angry when they find their woundedcomrade. Sometimes it is difficult for me to restrain them."

  The excited jargon of the islanders as they came upon their disabledfellow confirmed the truth of his words. Jabbering to themselves, andcasting sullen glances in the direction of the _Petrel_, they carriedthe man over the ledge to the beach.

  "Mr. Bandrist," said Dickie clearly. "I've as much right to be here asyou have. You can't legally keep me from taking the engine out of thisboat. 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 getthrough, I'll go. And not before. If you are on the square you'll stayhere until I do. We don't want trouble any more than you do. But we'renot going to be bluffed out on this deal or any other."

  Bandrist's eyes shone with unconcealed admiration. He inclined his headin response to her suggestion and exclaimed: "I shall be only too gladto remain here until you are ready to leave."

  Dickie Lang turned quickly to Howard. "You keep off your feet, Tom," shesaid. "I might as well start in. The boys from the _Curlew_ ought tohave 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 themotor 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 convenientlywork around the engine," she answered.

  The work of tearing down the motor began at once. Gregory wore the skinfrom his knuckles in loosening the stud-bolts while Howard instructedhim from the doorway how to take off the carburetor and rip up thefeed-line. As they worked the girl made a rapid survey of the parts shedesired to salvage.

  "Some more of your friends?"

  Bandrist pointed seaward where a dory was rounding the point and headingshoreward.

  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 Sorensonstared 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 thegirl to one side, he said quietly: "Thing's pretty well shot, miss. Tookher down and found this."

  He extended a blackened handkerchief covered with fine dust. Dickie Langexamined it carefully, rubbing the particles of black grit between herfingers.

  "Emery dust?"

  Jones nodded. "She's full of it," he answered. "Don't dare and start herup. She'd cut herself to pieces."

  Silently regarding the blackened particles, the girl asked: "Carlin waswith 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 brainsenough to be a crook. I know now. Well, we've got enough trouble righthere for a while without bothering about your boat. You rip up the motorand Sorenson and Mr. Gregory can strip the deck. We've got to hustle. Itwill 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 Dickiediscovered had been overlooked by the robber of the _Petrel_, all handsturned again to the work of salvaging the motor.

  Through the long afternoon they worked in silence. As Gregory strippedthe iron chaulks from the deck and removed the stays, he noticed thatBandrist leaned idly against the rail with his blue eyes following themovements of Dickie Lang with great interest. Once, before Gregory couldsurmise his purpose, he sprang to the girl's side and assisted her witha piece of shaft and the ease with which he handled the heavy brasscaused the young man to marvel.

  A queer specimen of man was Bandrist, he reflected, to be marooned insuch a spot as this. Gregory's work gav
e him a chance to study theislander without being observed. He was a figure who merited more than apassing glance. He would challenge attention in any environment. Whilehe twisted the galvanized turn-buckles, rusted by the salt-air, Gregoryappraised the man carefully.

  Trained to the minute and hard as nails, he catalogued the slenderfigure. The long smooth-lying muscles were those of an athlete. He couldsee them rippling at the open-throat and on the islander's wrist when heraised his arm. The features too were worthy of notice. Line by line hestudied them. From the high forehead which bulged over the clear blueeyes, to the delicately ovaled chin. The face was emotionless. Only thecurve of the thin lips showed the man beneath the mask. The lips werecruel as death.

  The tall crags cast their irregular shadows athwart the cove and asudden puff of wind, which had freshened as the day wore on, ruffled thequiet 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'sbeginning to set in strong and the breeze is freshening. We've got aboutall we dare fool with. I want to get clear of the Diablo coast beforethe fog drifts any closer."

  The fishermen issued from the engine-house at her words and began togather up the parts of the dissembled motor and carry them to thewaiting skiffs. Then they assisted Howard to the dory. In a few momentsthey 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 restof the motor?"

  Gregory nodded and set to work. Bandrist's eyes followed the departingskiff until it disappeared around the point. Then he motioned Gregory toone side and began to speak: "Do not let her come out here again," hesaid in a low voice. "Diablo is not a safe place for fishermen, muchless a woman. My men will not forget you. I was able to control themto-day. The next time I might not be so fortunate."

  However well meant the warning might have been, it rankled in Gregory'sbreast. He felt his instinctive dislike of Bandrist grow with the man'swords. Meeting the islander's eyes squarely, he said in a voice whichonly Bandrist could hear:

  "If it is necessary for us to come to Diablo again, Mr. Bandrist, wewill come. If you are unable to handle your men, that will be up toyou."

  For a moment the two men appraised each other in silence. Then Gregoryturned and walked to the waiting dory.

  In the purpling dusk they embarked from Diablo and sped across therippling water to the launch which lay in the offing. Looking back fromthe stern-seat, Gregory saw the man on the ledge gazing after them withfolded arms.

  On the deck of the _Pelican_ the girl was issuing hasty orders for thereturn to the mainland.

  "Kick her over, Jones. Johnson, stand by the hook. Here comes the otherskiff. Get your stuff aboard, Sorenson, as quick as you can," she calledto the approaching dory, "and swing the boat on deck. We'll beat it outof here and take the _Curlew_ in tow. Make it lively, boys. We've got tobe under way."

  Swinging wide of the headland the _Pelican_ plunged into the trough ofthe swell and skirting the coast raced on to pick up the disabled_Curlew_. Dickie Lang looked back at the dim outline of the cliffs asthey shadowed the sea.

  "Poor little _Pete_," she exclaimed softly. "It's tough. But it can't behelped."

  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'tknow you heard." She set her lips together. "It's all in the game, Iknow," she went on, "but no one but me knows how I hate to lose thelittle _Petrel_."

  When they picked up the _Curlew_ the fitful wind died suddenly and theair grew heavy with moisture. The white clouds which scurried across theface of the heavens dropped lower and massing themselves togetherobscured the stars. Piloting the _Pelican_ and her tow safely to thehigh seas, the girl relinquished the wheel to Johnson with a sigh ofrelief.

  "I'll rustle something to eat, Bill," she said. "We'll stand two-hourwatches. I'll take her next. I want to see if there is anything I can dofor Tom. I'll be in the cabin. Call me if you sight anything or it getsthicker."

  Turning to Gregory, she exclaimed: "The next thing is to eat. I'mstarved myself, and I'll bet you're worse."

  Repairing to the cabin where the big fisherman was already asleep on thebunk, they ate their first real meal of the day in silence. There wasmuch that they could have talked about, but one does not follow the sealong without learning that opportunities to eat are sometimes golden,and not lightly to be passed over or interfered with by conversation. Itwas not until the last morsel of food had been consumed, therefore, thatGregory 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 thesame 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 toosmooth. Too well educated for a sheep-man. He's up to something atDiablo. Don't know what. Don't know that it is any of my business atthat. But I don't like him."

  "Neither do I," Gregory admitted. "I sized him up as a mighty cleverman. He has a hard outfit out there and he pretends he can't controlthem. That's the bunk. Did you notice how they took orders from himwithout even talking back?"

  "Yes. And he had most of them armed. With orders to keep people off ofthe island. Why?" she asked suddenly. "I don't believe it's on accountof the sheep."

  Gregory shook his head emphatically.

  "That was bunk too," he said. "They knew we were not trying to hunt. Isuppose they did get pretty sore when we roughed it with them, but thatdidn't give them any license to pull their knives and try to carve usup. That crazy fool would have had me in another minute if it hadn'tbeen 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 hardwork. I thought you were never coming up."

  "You were dead game," Gregory cut in. "You saved me from that fellow'sknife and you know it."

  Dickie Lang made no reply but sat with her arms resting on thecabin-table, looking off into space. Again she saw herself huddledagainst the rocks, looking down into the sunlit water of the cove,waiting for the men to come to the surface. What a fight Gregory musthave had to have freed himself from that strangle-hold and save the lifeof the other man as well as his own. How skilfully he had worked overHoward. 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 gonewool-gathering. Perhaps it was because she was beginning to realize thatthis man was a man among men. And real men were scarce. He was speakingagain.

  "There's something wrong at Diablo. I'd give a lot to find out what itis."

  "It would cost a lot," she answered soberly. "And what business is it ofours? Dad used to say that monkeying with other people's affairs was aluxury 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 Ican see ahead right now."

  Silence for several moments. Then, from the girl:

  "Besides, you couldn't find out anything. The fishermen are scared stiffof 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. Herewas an opportunity to justify it.

  "The bunch I'm figuring on wouldn't be afraid of it," he said. "In factI 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 saidherself 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 assailedher. It had its advantages. She would think it over while she was at thewheel.

  "Boat off starboard quarter," a gruff voice announced from the doorway.

  Dickie Lang sprang to her feet and hurried on deck with Gregoryfollowing close behind. From the gray gloom came the sharp exhaust of ahigh-powered motor, running at top speed. As they looked in thedirection of the sound, which was fast changing to an angry roar, theshifting 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 ofthe gatlin-like exhaust. The next instant the green light flashed by andwas 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 exhaustlike that," she answered. "That's the _Fuor d'Italia_. She's the fastestcraft in southern waters of her kind. And no one ever runs her butMascola."

  Gregory continued to listen to the rapid-fire exhaust as it died away inthe distance. Then he pictured himself driving the trim craft, plungingthrough 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, hereflected that speed sometimes was everything. If he was going to opposeMascola he would have to get there first. Dickie was speaking again.

  "Joe Barrows built her up at Port Angeles. Mascola hasn't had her verylong and he won't have her much longer if he pounds her like that. Iwonder 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 goingto find out, he would have to have a faster boat than the _Fuord'Italia_. Perhaps Joe Barrows could help him out.

  Through the long night the _Pelican_ crept into the thickening fog withthe disabled _Curlew_. Daybreak found them at the entrance to CrescentBay. When they reached the Lang docks the masts of the fishing-fleetcould be dimly discerned through the shifting mist like a forest ofbare-trunked trees.

  Dickie frowned.

  "The boys are late getting out," she observed. "I wonder what's thematter."

  As they drew alongside the wharf it was evident that something unusualwas in the air. The pier was thronged with fishermen, gathered togetherin little groups, leaning idly against the empty fish-boxes. At thelanding party's approach the low hum of conversation died away into afaint murmur. A solitary figure, standing apart from the others, hurriedforward 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."