d expenses mounted perceptibly, cutting down
profits and adding to the multiplying worries of the young cannery-owner
in countless ways.

At the close of one particularly trying day he sat alone in the cannery
office and stared moodily at a wireless despatch which lay on the desk
before him. It came from Diablo and reported the arrival of a portion of
his fleet off the Hell-Hole.

The message was phrased in the most optimistic terms. Fish appeared to
be plentiful. The weather was fine, the sea smooth. There was no sign
of interference from any quarter.

Yet the worried lines which creased Gregory's forehead deepened. It had
been that way often of late at devil island. No matter how clear the sky
appeared, the shadow of El Diablo bulked dark and sinister across the
sunlit horizon. Something would happen out there to-night. He felt sure
of it. He should have gone with the fleet. But how could he? He was far
down the coast with the new boats when they left.

Diablo, he realized sharply, was getting on his nerves. Were the
obstacles which he had encountered about the island due to something
more than a mere defense of good fishing grounds? It was not the first
time he had asked himself the question. There was something wrong at El
Diablo. He could not shake off the feeling. As he sat down to wait for
the evil tidings he felt sure would come, he took up an unopened letter
from Hawkins which had been on his desk two days. A part of the letter
caused him to read it the second time.

"So I got to nosing around and incidentally tumbled on
to something which I think may be of interest to you.
Would it surprise you to know that Mascola does not own
a single fishing-boat? It did me, though I might have
known it if I had remembered the federal statute which
prohibits any but American-owned fishing vessels from
operating in American waters.

"Rock and Bandrist own the alien fleet. Mascola, you
see, is an alien. Bandrist apparently is not. I wish by
the way you'd tell me all you can of that bird. I'm
looking up Silvanus myself. I'm on the trail of a pretty
good story, Cap, if it works out all right. Shouldn't be
surprised if I might not drop in on you any time. If I
do, I'll want a boat to go over to Diablo. Keep this all
under your hat. It isn't censored."

For some time Gregory stared at Hawkins' letter. The information gleaned
from its contents shed a new light u