El Diablo Part 49

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 s.h.i.+eld 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 d.i.c.kie 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 x.x.x

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 d.i.c.kie Lang again. But he would not fail.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of sharp scuffling ahead.

Rus.h.i.+ng down the trail he came upon the deputies struggling with two men in the bottom of a small ravine. As he a.s.sisted 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-gra.s.s 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 pa.s.sed 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. Rus.h.i.+ng 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 m.u.f.fle the click of the hammer, he c.o.c.ked 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 pa.s.sed and Mascola was walking again to the shadow.