El Diablo Part 7

d.i.c.kie 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."

d.i.c.kie 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 d.i.c.kie Lang. Pa.s.sing 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 pa.s.sed 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 d.i.c.kie Lang.