d strongest arm. The law of sand
and a quick trigger."

Gregory felt his pulse quicken as she went on:

"You see we have to depend on ourselves out here to settle our troubles.
Whatever happens, happens quick. Generally there are not many witnesses.
If you knew trouble was coming, you might get a deputy to come out, but
the chances are ten to one they wouldn't. They would say it was only a
fisherman's row and tell you to swear out a warrant. And if you go to
law, Mascola will bring five witnesses for each of yours and they'll
outswear you every time for they can lie faster than a man can write it
down."

Again she paused and searched the gray border of the receding curtain of
night. Far away Gregory could hear the roar of the breakers. From out
the gray dusk ahead appeared the shadowy outline of a rugged promontory
jutting far out into the sea.

"Keep close in, Tom. Our last string's dead ahead, off Peeble Beach.
When you get around the point swing on the outside of Coward Rocks and
give her all she'll stand."

She walked slowly about the deck with her eyes fixed on the wave-washed
shore-line.

"So you see each outfit makes its own laws and it's up to them to
enforce them. Our law is to mind our own business and get the fish. The
only law we break is Mascola's. He tries to tell us where to fish. He
bullies the ones he can and fights the ones he can't in any way that is
easiest and safest. He's a thief and a crook and he'd commit murder in a
minute if he thought he could get by with it."

The idea lodged in her brain. She leaned closer and exclaimed in a low
voice: "And how do we know he doesn't get by with murder the way he does
with everything else? There's many a man picked up along the coast as a
'floater' that nobody knows how he drowned."

Daybreak was upon them as they hugged the shore-line and slipped into
the protecting shadow of Long Point. Dickie Lang's words sank deep into
Gregory's consciousness. A half-formed question found its way at last
to his lips.

"Do you think," he began, but was interrupted by the man at the wheel.

"Can't make the inside channel. Have to go round."

He altered the helm as he spoke. Dickie Lang jumped to his side.

"We've got to run the short-cut, Tom. No use going round. They'd spot us
a mile away in this light. If they're laying round my nets I want to
surprise them. I'll take the boat."

The fisherman surrendered the wheel and sidled out of the way.

"She's your