entering the cave from the bluff-side. The others were to move along the
beach, surround the main entrance and cut off escape to the water. All
were to challenge once. Then shoot to kill.

Slade selected his men carefully. When he came to Gregory he said: "Stay
with the main body on the beach."

It was in Gregory's mind to argue. Slade was throwing him into the
discard. What chance would he have of finding Mascola at the main
entrance to the cave? The leader of the advance was already marshaling
his men about him.

Gregory found Hawkins and the two men walked away from the others,
whispering together. Hawkins returned alone. When the advance party had
left Slade checked up the men who remained.

"I'm a man short," he announced. "What became of Mr. Gregory? I told him
to stay here."

Hawkins shook his head blankly when questioned concerning the sudden
disappearance of his friend. Gregory might have misunderstood. It was
not like him to disobey orders. In any case Slade need not worry. His
ex-captain was used to scouting and had received many citations during
the war for crossing the enemy's lines. Gregory would be a help to the
advance if he had gone with them, Hawkins stoutly maintained. Then he
lied earnestly: "He knows that cave like a book."

Joining the men detailed to enter the cave in advance, when they reached
the top of the bluff, Gregory reported to the officer in charge.

"Mr. Slade sent me to join you," he said. "I brought him over from
Legonia in my launch."

Jack Smith hesitated. "All right," he muttered after a moment. "Slade's
the boss. Take off that slicker. It'll catch on the brush. Follow after
the others and stay close. Don't do anything until I tell you."

His manner was curt and plainly showed that he was not pleased with the
latest addition to the party. But Kenneth Gregory cared little for that.
If the _Gray Ghost_ was at the goose-neck, the chances were that Mascola
would be in the cave. And Mascola must be given no chance to escape.

As he followed after the others down the winding sheep-trail, before
Gregory's eyes flashed a vision of his father's battered face staring up
at him from the canvas bundle on the hatch. Then came the memory of
Mascola's insolent look of triumph when he had first beheld Richard
Gregory's son on the wharf at Legonia. Why had he not seen and
understood before this?

But then, he had had no proof. He reflected bitterly that he had no
proof now. Only a Mexi