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 scrap 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

Ready to clear for Diablo at last! Gregory's lieutenants had done their
work well. The gear from the ship-chandlers had arrived on the morning
train. Also the remittance from Farnsworth. Dickie Lang had outfitted
the fishing-boats in record time. Crews of experienced men were selected
and supplies taken aboard. One by one the launches were carefully
examined by the girl and despatched singly on a course mapped out by
herself, a course which would bring them to Northwest Harbor without
skirting the shore of the island. The auxiliary supply boat, the last of
the fleet to go, had cleared but an hour before. For the time being
Dickie Lang was content to rest upon her oars.

Bronson was ready. In response to a night letter from Gregory he had
arrived on time with the _Richard_, bringing with him a full equipment
of heavy gear. Tuned to the minute, the speed-craft waited impatiently
at the cannery float for the signal to be under way.

Jack McCoy was ready. Everything within the cannery was shipshape to
handle a big run. Depleted supplies had been hastily ordered. Necessary
additions to the floor force had been made and the house-manager was in
possession of detailed instructions for the running of the plant during
the owner's absence.

Even Hawkins was ready. The advertisements had been written and checked
over before being despatched to _The Times_ to "farm out" among the
other city dailies. In addition to that, the newspaperman had arranged
to communicate with his paper _via_ the cannery wireless should he be
fortunate enough to secure a big story.

Gregory himself was ready. The details of