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Updated: June 9, 2025
We must row the launch around the next point at least." Mascola growled his resentment at Bandrist's air of authority. Nevertheless he saw the wisdom of the suggestion and hastily brought out the long ash oars and fastened them in the brass locks. Bandrist pulled the anchor and took his place at one of the sweeps. For some moments the two men rowed silently into the fog.
Bandrist's island. He tell me I fish here. He say you go. You stay, you like trouble. My men like fight any time." "Go to it, then," Gregory answered quietly. "And when you see your friend Bandrist, tell him for me that he hasn't bought Diablo. He's only leasing the land. If he has any more claim to the water than we have, he'll have to show us."
"And we're going to have to drive to catch him with this lead." Her words were drowned in the thunder of the Richard's motor and the speed-launch bounded away to overtake her hated rival. "The fog is lifting. Soon it will be clear. We must watch closely for pursuit." Mascola grunted a reply to Bandrist's observations. Weather conditions meant very little to him at the present moment.
Bandrist's blue eyes flashed. "I can tend to that," he exclaimed. "You do what you're told and quit meddling with my business." "It's my business too," Mascola retorted doggedly. "Gonzolez is becoming angry at the delay. He will wait no longer." Bandrist walked slowly to the window and stared out into the fog. When he faced about an automatic shone dully in his hand.
"I'm wondering about the same things our fathers wondered about," she said. As Gregory said nothing, she went on hurriedly: "Did you ever stop to think that if Mascola and that gray boat lay in at Hell-Hole that they are doing it with Bandrist's permission? That means that whatever they are doing there, Bandrist is in on it." She paused abruptly and her eyes rested full on Gregory's face.
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