As the talk turned to Diablo, Hawkins listened attentively though he said but little. At length the party rose to go.
As Gregory was bidding them good night one of the radio men entered with a message. Gregory glanced at the meaningless jumble of words and shook his head.
"Too much for me," he announced. "I haven't savvied the code out well enough yet to read this one."
The operator again took the message.
"Haven't been using it long," he answered. "But
one of the boys dropped on to a little rig on one of the cliffs a little way from here, so we thought it was just as well to be careful."
Gregory nodded and the company drew closer to the operator as he bent over his work. When the message was decoded it read:
Off Northwest Harbor El Diablo
From: Launch Pelican.
Albacore tuna running close shore this end. Slipped round Mascola's boats by running round south shore. His fleet off Hell-Hole Isthmus. Spotted them hour ago. Don't think he's wise we're here. Can load up fleet if they get here quick and can dodge by Mascola. What shall we do?
The message was signed by Tom Howard.