"You're takin' a tall chance," he said slowly. "Things happen out Diablo way. Your dad never could make it stick out there. He lost a heap around that devil-island. That's why he give up fishin' out there."
"He didn't give it up," the girl flashed, "any more than I'm going to give it up. Diablo's got your goats, and you know it. There's always fish around the island and I'll bet you two to one when the fleet comes back they'll have them to burn."
Turning with disgust, Dickie walked to the end of the dock and sought to pierce the shifting curtain of mist which hung about the inlet. It came to her suddenly that in her anger at Gregory's proposal, she had made a big promise. Moreover she had entered
into a contract which she was finding more difficult to fulfill than she had imagined. Perhaps she was a fool not to have taken up the cannery-owner's proposition. At least it was worth considering. By accepting his terms all the worry would have been shifted to him and she would have been able to play safe. In a year she would have been out of debt. With her boats paid for, she could afford to be independent. Now, she was going further behind each day. Worse than that, she was falling down on her contract.
Finishing his business with the contractor a half-hour before closing time, Gregory hurried down to the Lang wharf.
He found the girl busied with her tally-sheets and stepped behind a row of fish-boxes and waited. From his position he could see the neighboring dock where a number of alien fishermen were at work mending nets. Apart from the others was the huge figure of a red-shirted man standing motionless, scowling in the direction of the Lang wharf. As he looked closer, he became conscious of the fact that he had seen the red-shirted giant before.
Boisterous laughter floated across the intervening strip of water and a scarlet sleeve flashed as the big man shook his fist threateningly at the rival dock.
"They are kidding the Russian about losing the Roma and getting canned by the boss," explained a fisherman who was passing by. "Boris is sorer than a boiled owl at being run on the rocks by a girl."
Gregory watched the excited foreigner in silence. A man like that could cause a lot of trouble. Suddenly he heard the sound of low voices on the other side of the lane of fish-boxes.