"Why?" Gregory asked quickly.
Rock searched the far corners of the room for the answer to the question. At length he replied: "It is an extremely dangerous place, particularly at this season of the year. Storms are prevalent about Diablo and by making the venture at this time, you place not only your capital in jeopardy, but the lives of your men as well."
Gregory realized he had little time for argument.
"I've asked for a loan of three thousand for ten days, Mr. Rock. It's up to you. What will you do for me?"
A slight frown passed over the bank president's forehead at the young man's insistence. For a moment he gave his entire attention to the blotter on the desk. Then he said:
"I will let you have the money you desire on one
condition. That you confine your operations to coastal waters. Your security will then be comparatively safe and——"
"You forget, Mr. Rock, that I am not taking my cannery with me to El Diablo," Gregory broke in. "Don't you regard the plant and the canned product on the floor as sufficient security for a temporary loan of three thousand dollars?"
Rock nodded. After a moment's silence he said: "Then there is another thing. This is a time to speak plainly. Otherwise I would make no mention of it. But as you are seeking a favor at the hands of this bank, it is my duty to inform you that we do not wish to countenance or encourage, in any way, your policy of stirring up trouble with our alien population."
Gregory rose angrily.