El Diablo

by Brayton Norton

  CHAPTER XXX

  THE FIGHT IN THE CAVE

  With the sands of the sea-beach gritting beneath their feet, Sladeordered a halt and conferred with the Mexican. Then he whispered toBillings: "This is the isthmus bay where I told the men to land. I knowwhere I am now all right. Around the next point is the goose-neck. Thecave Joe speaks of is at the far end of the cove. It has two entrances,one from the bluff and one from the beach. Jack Smith's been in it. I'mgoing to send him ahead. Take a look for the landing boats down by thewater."

  Billings disappeared on the instant and a moment later rejoined hischief.

  "Everything's O.K.," he announced. "The men have landed and are standingby for instructions."

  "Tell them to carry the dingeys clear of the tide and join me here,"Slade directed. "Send one boat back to the _Bennington_ and have theskipper move her around to the goose-neck in ten minutes. Tell him tonail anything that's at anchor in the cove."

  Billings returned in a few minutes accompanied by the men from therevenue cutter. Silently they grouped themselves about their chief andwaited for instructions.

  Gregory crowded closer and listened while Slade gave the men theirorders. The deputies were to be divided. A few of the best trained men,familiar with the local topography, were to scout on in advance,entering the cave from the bluff-side. The others were to move along thebeach, surround the main entrance and cut off escape to the water. Allwere to challenge once. Then shoot to kill.

  Slade selected his men carefully. When he came to Gregory he said: "Staywith the main body on the beach."

  It was in Gregory's mind to argue. Slade was throwing him into thediscard. What chance would he have of finding Mascola at the mainentrance to the cave? The leader of the advance was already marshalinghis men about him.

  Gregory found Hawkins and the two men walked away from the others,whispering together. Hawkins returned alone. When the advance party hadleft Slade checked up the men who remained.

  "I'm a man short," he announced. "What became of Mr. Gregory? I told himto stay here."

  Hawkins shook his head blankly when questioned concerning the suddendisappearance of his friend. Gregory might have misunderstood. It wasnot like him to disobey orders. In any case Slade need not worry. Hisex-captain was used to scouting and had received many citations duringthe war for crossing the enemy's lines. Gregory would be a help to theadvance if he had gone with them, Hawkins stoutly maintained. Then helied earnestly: "He knows that cave like a book."

  Joining the men detailed to enter the cave in advance, when they reachedthe top of the bluff, Gregory reported to the officer in charge.

  "Mr. Slade sent me to join you," he said. "I brought him over fromLegonia in my launch."

  Jack Smith hesitated. "All right," he muttered after a moment. "Slade'sthe boss. Take off that slicker. It'll catch on the brush. Follow afterthe others and stay close. Don't do anything until I tell you."

  His manner was curt and plainly showed that he was not pleased with thelatest addition to the party. But Kenneth Gregory cared little for that.If the _Gray Ghost_ was at the goose-neck, the chances were that Mascolawould be in the cave. And Mascola must be given no chance to escape.

  As he followed after the others down the winding sheep-trail, beforeGregory's eyes flashed a vision of his father's battered face staring upat him from the canvas bundle on the hatch. Then came the memory ofMascola's insolent look of triumph when he had first beheld RichardGregory's son on the wharf at Legonia. Why had he not seen andunderstood before this?

  But then, he had had no proof. He reflected bitterly that he had noproof now. Only a Mexican's unsupported word that Mascola had stood bywhile his father and Bill Lang were murdered by his men. That was notenough. Mascola might be convicted of smuggling but he would go clear onthe charge of murder.

  Gregory shook his head slowly in the darkness. No, Mascola would not goclear. He would choke a confession from the Italian with his own hands.Somewhere below him in the fog, a girl waited for him to bring back herfather's murderer. The girl he loved, had always loved, but had neverknown it before to-night. If he failed, he could never face Dickie Langagain. But he would not fail.

  His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of sharp scuffling ahead.Rushing down the trail he came upon the deputies struggling with two menin the bottom of a small ravine. As he assisted the revenue men insecuring their captives, he heard Smith whisper: "Down the gulch, men.Take it easy. It's steep. Stay with these fellows, Joe."

  The air which sucked through the ravine grew colder as they descended.Then the dank atmosphere became strongly permeated with the odor offish. Gregory felt a hand upon his arm.

  "Go last," Smith ordered. "Watch the others. Do what they do. No more."

  Foot by foot, the men wormed their way over the dry sticks which chokedthe entrance to the cave. Then Smith ordered a halt.

  Leaving a half dozen men at the entrance he instructed them: "Watch thisoutlet. When you hear a shot inside, light the signal flares and throwthem inside. Then you can see anybody that tries to get by you. They'regoing to do the same thing at the main entrance." Beckoning Gregory andthe two remaining deputies to his side, he said: "We'll go on into thecave. Keep close behind me. When I give the signal by calling on them togive themselves up, each one of you pick a man and hang to him. Theyhaven't a chance of getting out with both entrances lit up and guarded.Come on."

  The carpet of dried sea-grass thrown up by the high tides, deadenedtheir footsteps as they crawled into the cave. For an instant they crepton through the darkness. Then a twist in the pathway brought a faintgleam of light ahead. Smith flattened to the kelp and wriggled nearerwith the two men behind him following close. Gregory was the last toreach the surface of a table-like ledge of rock which ribbed their pathand projected outward over the cavern. Crawling abreast of the deputies,he raised slowly to his elbow and looked down.

  The floor of the cave lay only a few feet below, faintly discernible inthe yellow light which issued from a hooded lantern. Gregory's eyessearched the grotesque shadows which fell athwart the rocky floor.

  Were there no men in the cave?

  For an instant no sound broke the stillness. Then, from the darknessbeyond the lantern, came the shuffling of footsteps and three fishermenstepped out into the circle of light and dropped to their knees on therocky floor.

  Gregory's eyes opened wider. The cavern floor was literally covered withfish. As he sought to fathom the strange actions of the fishermen asthey passed silently up and down the long rows of albacore, the silencewas broken by an angry snarl and the figure of another man leaped outfrom the shadow. Rushing upon one of the fishermen, he shook him roughlyby the arm. Then the rays of the lantern fell upon his face.

  Gregory's automatic was in his hand as he caught sight of Mascola.Holding the weapon close against his coat to muffle the click of thehammer, he cocked the revolver and shoved it forward over the ledge. Foran instant the muzzle wavered, then drew steadily upward until thesights were in line with Mascola's waistband. What an easy shot it was.He couldn't miss. What was the matter with his trigger finger? His armslowly relaxed. He couldn't shoot the man from the dark.

  He'd shoot you quick enough.

  I know he would, but----

  He murdered your father. He didn't give him a chance, did he?

  There was logic in that. The arm which held the automatic stiffened. Theeyes which glinted over the sights, grew hard, then closed to blot outthe hated visage. When they opened again, the temptation had passed andMascola was walking again to the shadow.

  From the ledge above the cave a bright ray of light followed the figureof the Italian. Mascola leaped to cover behind a huge rock.

  The same instant the roar of a pistol shot deafened Gregory's ear. AsSmith fired into the air to give the signal to the men without, hecried: "Hands up, men. You're prisoners of the United States."

  The flash-light fell from the deputy's hand as an answering shot echoedfrom the darkness across the cave. Smit
h rolled to his side. "Nail 'em,"he gasped, and tumbled from the ledge.

  Gregory slid from the rocks and stumbled to the fish-covered floor ofthe cavern. The light from the lantern was suddenly extinguished.Dropping to his knee, he shot at the flash of a gun ahead. Dimly to hisears came the shouts of the posse fighting their way into the cave. Soonthe vaulted walls reverberated with the rattle of firearms and thedarkness was faintly illumined by the light of the signal flares burningat the entrances.

  Brought into bold relief by the weird glow from the sputtering candles,a number of darting figures could be seen leaping to cover behind therocks. From the shadows came bright jets of flame. Bullets whinedthrough the cavern, clipping the walls and rattling the pebbles to thestone floor. Flattening his body against the slimy fish, Gregorywriggled foot by foot in the direction of the big rock which shelteredMascola.

  * * * * *

  The game was up. Bandrist emptied his revolver in the direction of theadvancing deputies and drew cautiously away from Mascola. The _Fuord'Italia_ lay at anchor in the cove beyond the goose-neck. Thetunnel-like passage, which only himself knew, would lead him to thebeach. While the Italian delayed the attacking party would be his chanceto take to the boat. In the fog he could make his escape. By daybreak hecould make the Mexican coast. Then he would be safe. Of Mascola hethought but little, save as a means to an end. It would serve theItalian right.

  Mascola faced about a few minutes later to find himself fighting alone.Then he heard the rattle of loose stones dropping from the cavern wall.Bandrist was leaving him. The Italian's blood warmed at the islander'streachery. Did Bandrist think he was the only one who knew the way out?His anger mounted as he climbed the wall and wormed his way through thenarrow opening. So Bandrist thought to give him the slip, did he? Well,he'd show him.

  When Bandrist reached the end of the tunnel he crawled out into the fogand listened intently. Some one was following from the cave. Jamming afresh clip into his automatic he waited. Then he silently replaced hisrevolver. A shot would only draw pursuit. Perhaps there were men alreadyguarding the secret exit. Huddling close to the cavern tunnel he waitedfor the figure of the man behind him to emerge.

  When Mascola reached the end of the tunnel he felt himself graspedroughly by the arm and twisted to the rocks. Bandrist recovered hiswits quickly when he recognized the Italian.

  "Quiet," he whispered. "You were a long time coming. There may be men onthe beach already. Where is your boat?"

  Mascola nodded his head in the direction of the beach.

  "My skiff lies close to rocks by the point," he said. "The launch isclose by."

  Bandrist fingered his automatic nervously.

  "We can wait no longer," he said.

  As he spoke he began to crawl forward toward the water.

  * * * * *

  The blue light from the signal flares flickered about the rock behindwhich Mascola had gone into hiding. Gregory reached the shadow, revolverin hand. Raising his body to his elbow, he leaned forward and looked up.The space which lay between the rock and the cavern wall was empty. Hewas on his feet in an instant. Mascola had escaped. That much was clear.But how? Surely not through the main entrance to the beach. He wouldhave no chance that way. The sound of the tumult at the mouth of thecavern told him that. Neither could the Italian have taken the otherpassage. He would have seen him as he passed.

  He searched the floor carefully for a possible hiding-place which wouldshelter the man he sought. Then he raised his eyes to the cave wall. Itwas lined with irregular niches, some of which might be large enough tohide the body of a man. In the faint glow from the signal flares, heclimbed slowly upward until he felt a cool rush of air fan his cheek.The air was heavy with fog; laden with the breath of the sea. The cavernheld still another entrance.

  Forcing his body through a cleft in the rocks from whence the breezecame, he found himself in a tunnel-like passage. The dry sticks snappedbeneath his feet as he felt his way through the impenetrable darkness,stopping at intervals to listen.

  That Mascola had preceded him only a few minutes before, he feltreasonably certain. By the time he reached the end of the passage theItalian might have gained a place of safety. Why had he not jumped fromthe ledge at first sight of his father's murderer? By now it would allbe over. His thoughts turned quickly to Dickie Lang. Perhaps the _GrayGhost_ might have come upon the _Richard's_ anchorage in the coveadjoining the goose-neck. Perhaps the speed-boat had been run down.Would the girl do as she was told and stay on the launch?

  His mind a prey to conflicting thoughts and emotions, Gregory crawled onthrough the darkness.

  * * * * *

  When Bandrist and Mascola reached the _Fuor d'Italia_, the Italiankicked the dory adrift as the two men climbed aboard. "Pull the hook,"he cried, "while I start the motor."

  "No," Bandrist whispered. "You'd be a fool to do that. The cave wasfilled with revenue men. That means there's a cutter lying in aroundhere somewhere. Perhaps at the goose-neck. She would spot you in aminute with her search. We must row the launch around the next point atleast."

  Mascola growled his resentment at Bandrist's air of authority.Nevertheless he saw the wisdom of the suggestion and hastily brought outthe long ash oars and fastened them in the brass locks. Bandrist pulledthe anchor and took his place at one of the sweeps. For some moments thetwo men rowed silently into the fog. Then the islander ceased his laborat the oar abruptly.

  "Head out," he whispered. "There's a launch ahead."

  Mascola's eyes sought to pierce the fog where the dim outline of amotor-boat loomed dark across their course. Then he swung the _Fuord'Italia_ about and skirting the point rowed doggedly away from thedarkened stranger.

  The Italian's ugly temper was not bettered by the physical exercise.There was no need to row the launch as far as this. If Bandrist wasgoing with him, he must learn he was to be only a passenger. The _Fuord'Italia_ did not belong to Rock and the islander. She was his ownproperty. He would run her where he pleased and as he pleased. As helabored, he formulated his plans.

  He would head straight for the Mexican line, keeping well out to escapethe patrol off San Juan. Daybreak would put him in the little lagoonbeyond Encinitas. There he would be among friends. He reflectedsuddenly that he had but little money. American gold in Lower Californiawould buy much. Without it, even his friends would give him but scantcomfort. Bandrist, he remembered, never trusted his money to banks, butpaid his bills in yellow gold which he carried in the coin belt abouthis waist.

  The observation gave Mascola comfort. Bandrist had enough for them both.He would see that he received his share.

  He ceased rowing.

  "Far enough," he muttered.

  "No."

  Bandrist's reply was sharp and decisive.

  "Your exhaust can be heard for miles," he said. "The wind is blowing inour faces. We must keep at the oars. Then they will think us still onthe island. If you start the motor now you'll bring pursuit."

  Mascola's hatred of Bandrist increased with the quiet tone of commandwith which the islander spoke.

  "There is no boat that can catch mine with this lead," he bragged.

  "Mr. Gregory's boat is faster than yours for one," Bandrist disputedquietly. "The new revenue cutters are faster for others. Why are you afool?"

  A hot argument began on the instant between the two men. An argumentwhich ended by Bandrist's knocking Mascola to the cockpit.

  Mascola lay where he fell for a moment, dazed by the blow. Bandrist wasnot rowing he noticed. Without doubt he had him covered with hisrevolver. Fuming with impotent rage, the Italian growled: "Well, you'rethe boss. It's up to you."

  As he struggled to his feet he made up his mind to get square with theislander. Again resuming his oars, he rowed steadily until Bandrist gavethe order to start the motor.

  The _Fuor d'Italia_ leaped forward and the cool sea air fanned Mascola'sflaming face. Settling quietly
into his seat he turned his attention tothe wheel.

  He could afford to wait, but only a little longer.

  * * * * *

  Dickie Lang grasped her rifle tighter and leaned over the rail as sheheard the soft dip of oars. Then her hold on the gun relaxed. Perhaps itwas Gregory returning to the launch.

  A glance into the gloom to starboard caused her to drop silently intothe cockpit. Resting the rifle on the coaming she covered theapproaching boat and waited in silence. To her ears came the low murmurof men's voices. Then the oncoming craft veered sharply and faded fromview. For some time the girl crouched upon the floor of the launch. Atlength the silence of the night was broken by the far-off pulsing of ahigh-speed motor.

  She jumped to her feet, her eyes glowing with excitement. Even at thedistance she could not be deceived. There was only one other craft aboutwith an exhaust like that.

  Mascola was fleeing from Diablo in the _Fuor d'Italia_.

  She sprang to the hood and began pulling on the anchor-chain. Then shestopped suddenly. The man she loved was still on the island. Perhaps hehad been wounded. Maybe killed. And in the meantime, Mascola wasescaping. For an instant love and hate fought for possession of theheart of Dickie Lang. Then the chain slipped through her fingers and theanchor dropped again to the bottom. Silently she returned to the wheeland sat down to wait. It was the hardest part of all to play. And italways fell to a woman.

  * * * * *

  When Gregory reached the end of the tunnel he could hear the shouts ofmen and the rapid discharge of firearms from around the point. He mustbe in the cove adjoining the goose-neck. Crawling rapidly through thebrush he gained the beach. Then he stopped and listened. Mascola hadevidently taken to the water.

  A sudden fear gripped his heart at the thought and sent him racing downthe beach in the direction of the _Richard's_ dory. His fears for thegirl's safety abated as he found the dory undisturbed among the rocks.Shoving it into the water he rowed hastily for the launch. As the skiffscraped the _Richard's_ side, he sprang aboard and caught the girl inhis arms. For an instant love alone dominated his heart.

  "Mascola escaped in the _Fuor d'Italia_."

  Dickie's words recalled Gregory to his purpose. The next instant he waspulling at the chain.

  "I'll take you around the point to the cutter," he called to her as heworked. "You'll be safe there until----"

  "No." The girl's answer was spoken with a determination there was nogainsaying. "I'm going with you," she said in a low voice. "There weretwo men in the launch."