drist?" he asked suddenly.

The girl started, surprised that they should both be thinking of the
same man. Her forehead wrinkled slowly as she answered:

"I think he's a crook. I don't know why exactly, but I just do. He's too
smooth. Too well educated for a sheep-man. He's up to something at
Diablo. Don't know what. Don't know that it is any of my business at
that. But I don't like him."

"Neither do I," Gregory admitted. "I sized him up as a mighty clever
man. He has a hard outfit out there and he pretends he can't control
them. That's the bunk. Did you notice how they took orders from him
without even talking back?"

"Yes. And he had most of them armed. With orders to keep people off of
the island. Why?" she asked suddenly. "I don't believe it's on account
of the sheep."

Gregory shook his head emphatically.

"That was bunk too," he said. "They knew we were not trying to hunt. I
suppose they did get pretty sore when we roughed it with them, but that
didn't give them any license to pull their knives and try to carve us
up. That crazy fool would have had me in another minute if it hadn't
been for you."

Dickie sought to minimize her part in the affair.

"I didn't do much," she said. "I was just lucky. You did all of the hard
work. I thought you were never coming up."

"You were dead game," Gregory cut in. "You saved me from that fellow's
knife and you know it."

Dickie Lang made no reply but sat with her arms resting on the
cabin-table, looking off into space. Again she saw herself huddled
against the rocks, looking down into the sunlit water of the cove,
waiting for the men to come to the surface. What a fight Gregory must
have had to have freed himself from that strangle-hold and save the life
of the other man as well as his own. How skilfully he had worked over
Howard. He seemed to know just what to do. She raised her head sharply.
Not given to living in the past, she wondered why her mind had gone
wool-gathering. Perhaps it was because she was beginning to realize that
this man was a man among men. And real men were scarce. He was speaking
again.

"There's something wrong at Diablo. I'd give a lot to find out what it
is."

"It would cost a lot," she answered soberly. "And what business is it of
ours? Dad used to say that monkeying with other people's affairs was a
luxury he never could afford."

"But if they interfere with fishing, it is some of our business."

"Yes, but do they?"

"I don't kno