El Diablo Part 34

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 pa.s.sed 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 fas.h.i.+on, 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 astonis.h.i.+ng 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 s.h.i.+p-chandlers at Port Angeles. They were s.h.i.+pping 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 antic.i.p.ated. 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.

d.i.c.kie 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 s.h.i.+p-chandlers and they are s.h.i.+pping 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 sh.o.r.e this end. Slipped round Mascola's boats by running round south sh.o.r.e. His fleet off h.e.l.l-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.

d.i.c.kie 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 sc.r.a.p 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