El Diablo Part 11

"What's the matter I say? You're pulling my nets."

Gregory freed his eyes with an effort from the launch to survey its owner. Mascola turned angrily on the leather cushion and glared at the _Petrel's_ deck.

d.i.c.kie Lang walked coolly to the rail. "Sure I'm pulling your nets,"

she said. "I've got them all aboard. And that's where they're going to stay until you pay me for the fish your outfit took from my nets."

"I never take your fish. I don't know----"

"Oh, yes you do, Mascola. Boris laid around me and robbed my nets.

There's my webbing lying right where I put it out. I caught that crazy Russian of yours with the goods and he lost his head and your boat. He's piled up over there on the beach."

Mascola rose hastily and followed the direction of her arm. In his anger at beholding d.i.c.kie taking his nets from the water he had not noticed the wreck of the _Roma_. A torrent of Italian words burst from his lips.

His cheeks purpled and his eyes grew hot with pa.s.sion. When he controlled himself to speak in English he cried:

"I'll have you arrested for stealing my nets. I'll get a warrant and search your wharf and your house."

"But you won't find your nets." d.i.c.kie Lang supplied the words and went on: "Listen, you crook, if you and I don't settle this thing up right now you won't find a piece of your nets big enough to swear what it is.

I'm not trying to rob you like you robbed me. I just want what's coming to me. Not a cent more. If you give me that I'll throw your webbing over. If you don't I'll trail them every inch of the way to Legonia and cut them into ribbons with the propeller. It's up to you, Mascola."

The Italian flashed a glance to the cove where the _Roma's_ angling mast appeared against the beach. Then he looked out to sea and his eyes brightened as the mast of a fishing-boat rounded the point and turned sh.o.r.eward. It was Ankovitch with the _Lura_.

His launch rode high on a capping swell and a puff of wind caused him to look anxiously at the beach. The tide was beginning to set in strong and the breeze was freshening. He snapped out his watch and scowled.

Whatever was done for the _Roma_ must be done at once.

"What do you want?" he flashed.

"Pay for the fish you stole from my nets. From what I saw in your nets I figure I had all of a ton." She glanced at the fish lying on the deck.

"You've got about five hundred here. I'll allow you for that. You pay me the difference at three cents. That will be forty-five dollars."

Mascola glared. His hand crept slowly to his pocket.

"None of that."

The girl's words cut like a knife. The hand which lay in her pocket turned and the coat bulged outward.

"I was getting my money," Mascola growled.

"All right. Face about the other way when you get it."

As the Italian turned, d.i.c.kie Lang caught up a rifle and threw it loosely over her shoulder. Mascola turned to look straight into the muzzle and drew back sharply. Then he flourished a roll of bills.

"Quick," he said. "You have me at a disadvantage this time. I will pay.

Here is the money."

He tossed the bills to the deck.

"All right, Mascola. That squares us for to-day. I'll dump your nets over right where they are as soon as I check up the money. And the next time you try to lay around me I'm going to run through your nets and cut them to pieces."

Mascola dropped to the cushioned seat and whirled half about.

"I will not forget," he said. "To-day you win. Next time----"

His words were lost in the roar of his motor. The speed-boat shot forward like a horse at the touch of a spur. In a whirl of white water Mascola sped away for the beach.

CHAPTER VII

YOU'LL HAVE TO SHOW ME

The sky was reddening in the east when the last of the nets were pulled aboard. Rounding Long Point, the _Petrel_ took up the homeward track as the sun peeped over the low brown hills and caressed the sea. d.i.c.kie Lang looked back at the wreck of the _Roma_ and the light of victory died slowly from her eyes.

"I'm not sorry for Mascola," she exclaimed. "He got only what was coming to him. But I am sorry for the little boat. She was a good little scout and she was game to the end. You'll find that boats are a good deal like people," she went on, "when you know them as well as I do. Some of them are cranky and have to be coaxed along. Others are just plain lazy and must be pounded on the back. And there are some that are treacherous and the minute they get you in a tight place, they will lay down cold."

Her last words gave her the cue to continue: "And the ocean is full of tight places. Mascola found himself in one this morning. He had the sense to realize it and act before it was too late. It went against his grain to be beaten by a girl. But by cashing in when he did, he saved a boat perhaps. So he put his pride in his pocket. Sometimes you've got to do that," she concluded seriously. "It hurts. But it's business."

Gregory's face showed his surprise at her annunciation of the business principle and, sensing that her admission might become embarra.s.sing at some future time, the girl changed the subject abruptly.

"Did you see McCoy yesterday?" she asked.

"Yes. We had a long talk last night. He's coming to work for me as house-foreman."

"That's fine," d.i.c.kie commended. "You'll like him. He'll be just the man for you."

Gregory nodded. "Yes," he answered. "I think we'll get on fine when we understand each other better."

"What do you mean? You haven't had a row with Jack already, have you?"

"Not exactly. Just a difference of opinion. I had an idea I worked out yesterday. McCoy couldn't see it."

"What was the idea?"

"It was a plan I had for getting labor. I wanted to hire a certain cla.s.s of men. McCoy didn't."

"How did it come out?"

"I'm going to hire them, of course. I told McCoy if he didn't like it, he could take the job or leave it. He decided to take it."

"It's the foreman's job to hire the help," the girl observed. "What was your plan?"

Gregory looked the girl full in the eyes for a moment. Then he began: "I'm going to organize my business on a cooperative basis, make my employees partners, pay them a graduated minimum wage and a share in the profits which will be held back as a bonus to make it worth their while to stick with me during the season."

"And McCoy thought it wouldn't work?"

"Yes."

"Neither do I."