El Diablo Part 28

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.

d.i.c.kie 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 d.i.c.k, 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. d.i.c.k had ditched him for Gregory. They'd framed it to get him out of the way.

Well, it was a cinch he wouldn't b.u.t.t in. His reflections were cut short by the sight of a white figure walking toward him.

"h.e.l.lo, Jack. What's the matter?"

McCoy stared. d.i.c.kie 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."

d.i.c.kie'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, d.i.c.k," he called back. "I'll go down there and see what's the trouble."

d.i.c.kie 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 d.i.c.kie 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 ident.i.ty of his a.s.sailant. 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 a.s.sistance. 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?"