his death on Diablo with Gregory's father.

Leaning against the dripping rail, he cursed the circumstances which
prevented his being at the girl's side if anything went wrong. He liked
the boss or he would have told him to look for another man. And
Gregory's banking on him, tied him up. His inability to join the
expedition gave to another the chance which should have been his. Torn
by anxiety for the girl's welfare and another emotion he was slower in
analyzing, he listened to the faint gulping of the _Pelican's_ exhaust
until it was no longer audible.

* * * * *

The sun rose sullenly from a fog-spotted sea and glared wrathfully at
the wreaths of low-lying mist which obscured his vision of the
saw-toothed peaks of El Diablo. Under the warmth of his gaze, the
white-fleeced clouds wavered, shifting about uncertainly. As if loath to
leave the devil-island they had guarded throughout the long night, they
contracted slowly, niggardly exposing a line of rugged cliffs which
shone bleak and gray in the strengthening light of early morning.

"It's breaking up at last. Look!"

Dickie Lang pointed to the dark blot on the horizon.

"Can't. If I take my eyes from this needle for a second the boat'll run
all over the ocean."

Gregory continued to stare at the compass while the girl smiled at his
earnestness.

"Tom will take her now," she said, nodding to Howard to relieve him at
the wheel. Then she added: "You've done fine. We've been going all night
on dead reckoning and we're not far off."

Gregory surrendered the wheel with a sigh of relief and followed the
direction of the girl's extended arm.

"That's Diablo," she announced. "I'm mighty glad the fog is shifting.
Wouldn't have needed to have started so early if we had known. But
that's the fun of the sea. You never know. There is no use trying to
make it in there in a fog," she added. "It is bad enough when you can
see."

While she talked with Johnson concerning the location of the wreck,
Gregory found time to note the towering cliffs which rose precipitously
from the blue-green sea. Somewhere along that rock-crusted coast, he
reflected bitterly, Diablo had claimed another of the Lang boats only a
few months ago. Somewhere among the white-crested rocks his father and
Bill Lang had met their death. He wondered where, but did not ask.
Perhaps the girl would speak of it.

For some time he watched the mist-clouds flee before the brighte