sore at him. He'd have to go up to the house
this evening and try to square himself. She was evidently sore at
Gregory, too. And in that thought, McCoy derived some consolation.

With the crisp sea air fanning their faces as they headed out to sea,
Dickie's irritability vanished. Desirous of starting conversation after
a protracted silence, she began: "Who do you think I saw down-town the
other day?"

Gregory could not guess. "I was in the bank," she began after a moment,
hoping Gregory would not notice that at times she did frequent Rock's
institution. "And that crazy fool, Boris, was in there trying to borrow
some money. He's been hanging round town ever since Mascola fired him.
When I've seen him he's been drunk on Japanese _sake_. He has it in for
me because all the fishermen kid him about being run on the rocks by a
girl. When I stepped back from the teller's window, Boris lunged against
me and started to mumble something. But before he had hardly opened his
mouth, a well-dressed man came from somewhere and threw him half across
the room. And who do you think it was?"

Again Gregory shook his head.

"Bandrist."

As Gregory voiced his surprise, the girl went on:

"You wouldn't have known him. He was all dolled-up and looked like a
different man. He knew me all right and he had the nerve to ask me if he
could come to see me," she concluded.

Gregory's dislike of Bandrist increased.

"What did you tell him?" he asked.

Dickie laughed.

"I told him I wasn't any more anxious to receive callers at my home than
he was at his."

Gregory wondered if the caustic answer to Bandrist might have been
retailed for his own benefit. He reflected suddenly that Dickie Lang had
never so much as intimated that he would be a welcome guest at her home.
Well, there was no use dwelling on it now. He had never bothered the
girl, and never would.

"Bandrist is no ordinary sheep-man," she went on. "And I know it. He's
working some kind of a game over there that he doesn't want people to
butt in on." She paused abruptly and her eyes narrowed. "I wonder," she
began, but left her sentence unfinished as she noticed that Gregory was
regarding her curiously.

"What?" he prompted.

"Nothing," she said. "Maybe some day I'll tell you. But not now."

Gregory knew her well enough to know that nothing could be gained by
urging. During the silence that fell upon them the minds of both were
working in parallel grooves, groping for a way