they are doing around that devil-island. What kinds of laws they're
breaking out there nobody knows. They may be doing anything from
shooting fish to catching chicken-halibut or baby barracuda. We don't
know what. But we do know they're mighty touchy on who cruises round El
Diablo. When our boats get around that infernal island something always
happens. You know that."

Lang's grunt was emphatic and Gregory concluded:

"That's why it's up to us to find out what it is. It's hard enough to
get the fish as it is without Mascola staking out the water like he
owned it and telling us to keep out."

For some time the two men leaned together against the engine-house, each
keeping his own counsel, each busied with his own thoughts. Then Gregory
spoke:

"If anything happens to me to-night, Lang, keep all this business to
yourself until my son comes home. Tell him. No one else. We want to get
to the bottom of this thing ourselves without any one else butting in to
bungle the job. Do you understand?"

When Lang had gone to relieve the Mexican at the wheel Richard Gregory's
thoughts turned to his son overseas. Should he have waited until his
return? He wondered. It was a young man's work, such a job as this,--and
yet,--no, it was better to get to the bottom of the thing to-night. His
head sank lower on his breast. Perhaps he could snatch a few winks of
sleep. He might need it.

The muffled rattle of the anchor-chain caused him to waken sharply,
stiff with cold. The motor was silent. The launch rocked lazily. Through
a rift in the fog he saw a rocky beach only a stone's throw away. They
were anchored close by the shore.

"Hell-Hole," announced Lang in a whisper.

Gregory picked up his rifle.

For a moment the big fisherman by his side hesitated. Then he said: "Why
not stay on the _Gull_, Mr. Gregory? Let Joe go ashore with me."

"No."

The answer was decisive. There were no explanations. Lang knew it was
final. Assisted by the Mexican, he swung the dory free and lowered it
quietly into the water. Helping Gregory into the small boat he turned to
the Mexican and spoke rapidly in Spanish. Gregory could catch only the
substance of a few sentences. Lang was telling Joe to stand by for a
quick get-away. To watch the beach and start the anchor when he saw them
coming. And above all he was to keep quiet.

The bow of the dory grated on the beach. The two men stepped out and
without a backward glance slowly disappeared into the