United States or Armenia ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
That's why I sent the big boats over there with the Petrel scouting ahead." The fisherman shook his head dubiously. "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."
Something they are doing around that devil-island. What kinds of laws they're breaking out there nobody knows. They may be doing anything from shooting fish to catching chicken-halibut or baby barracuda. We don't know what. But we do know they're mighty touchy on who cruises round El Diablo. When our boats get around that infernal island something always happens. You know that."
From the gray void of fog a deep voice floated back: "Diablo luck. Never got nothin' and the Petrel was smashed to hell." Dickie Lang was nonplussed. Her best bet was thrown into the discard. Her pride and independence had been at stake. For her most valued possessions, she had risked her all, and "stood pat" on the turn-up at the devil-island. Her cards were all on the table. Now she had lost.
As if loath to leave the devil-island they had guarded throughout the long night, they contracted slowly, niggardly exposing a line of rugged cliffs which shone bleak and gray in the strengthening light of early morning. "It's breaking up at last. Look!" Dickie Lang pointed to the dark blot on the horizon. "Can't. If I take my eyes from this needle for a second the boat'll run all over the ocean."
Word Of The Day