omes, we'll have to get
clear of the Diablo coast."

The second tour of the fishing fleet was only partly completed when
Dickie directed Gregory's gaze in the direction of the point off
Northwest Harbor.

"Here they come," she cried. "Mascola's looking for trouble just as I
told you."

Gregory surveyed the bobbing lights in silence as they moved nearer; saw
the red-lights blur and fade into green as the vessels changed direction
and headed shoreward; noted one twinkling light running far in advance
of its fellows; saw it swerve and double again into red and green. That
meant that the _Fuor d'Italia_ was bearing down upon them. Directing
Bronson to intercept the Italian, Gregory explained:

"I want to give Mascola another chance. We're not looking for trouble.
He can lay to the seaward but he's got to give us sea-way to get out if
it roughens up."

The _Richard_ swung wide and came abreast the _Fuor d'Italia_. Then it
came to Mascola that the strange craft on his left had some speed. Above
the roar of his own exhaust he heard his name called in a peremptory
hail. The hot blood surged to his face and he stepped on the throttle.
He had no time to talk. He must spot the position of the cannery boats
and give his men instructions how to break through.

The _Fuor d'Italia_ bounded away with a sullen roar. But before Mascola
could circle in the direction of the lights of the fleet, the _Richard_
was again on his rail. Cursing to himself, the Italian advanced his
spark and pressed hard on the throttle. But though he gained a few feet
on his pursuer, he knew that he dared not try to make the turn. His boat
would "turn turtle" or be cut in two by the craft behind.

On the two boats sped through the darkness. The lights of the fishing
fleet flashed by them like the gleam of switch-lights, seen from an
express train. Mascola's anger mounted. His men were waiting for orders
and he had seen nothing of the enemy's formation. A plan formed quickly
in his brain. It was dangerous of course. But the liquor gave him
courage. Removing one hand from the wheel, he extended it toward the
switch-board.

"He doesn't dare make the turn at this speed," Dickie shouted in
Gregory's ear. "Tell Bronson to watch him close when he doubles to come
back. He'll head into the swell, to the starboard."

Gregory was giving the boatman the message when he felt Dickie grasp his
arm.

"He's switched off his lights," she cried. "He's going to try to