Chapter XII: The Unexpected

Elliot Nash was puzzled, the morning following, when Hooker came to the shack and said that Sigsbee wished him to call at his office. Nothing was said concerning the previous night’s adventure, and while Nash was eager for an understanding, he determined to wait until after the interview with the Los Angeles politician.

He reached San Fernando at noon, and the local train set him down at the Fifth Street Station, Los Angeles, shortly after one o’clock. After the few months’ absence, the city appealed strongly to the engineer, and he spent all of an hour walking slowly in Broadway, Main, and Spring Streets, looking into the store windows, enjoying the scene of the hurrying throngs of shoppers, and amused or amazed now and then at the volley of questions fired at him by the curious, excited tourists.

The big restaurants were filled, and always in front of them stood a group of thrifty strangers, studying the bill of fare posted in the windows, and trying to decide what to order, and just what it would cost, before venturing inside.

Nash was more than interested in the types around him, who made the Los Angeles streets as lively and colorful as those of some foreign city. Here came a bevy of chattering, laughing girls, probably residents, all in white, with glowing complexions; jostling elbows with them, a Japanese family would wend their way, dressed in fashionable clothes, and carrying themselves with an air of importance--the City of Angels has many Japanese millionaires. Here and there a Spanish landowner, one of the real settlers of southern California, who still frown upon the “gringos,” as they style the Americans, swarthy of face, erect of figure, strutted past like a soldier on parade. Quaint Mexican women, bareheaded, barefooted, garbed in loose gowns of brilliant coloring, stepped in and out, following their lords and masters--thin-faced, evil-eyed, cigarette-smoking “greasers” in grimy linen suits and wearing huge, silver-trimmed, and costly sombreros--in most cases, more hat than man.

Shy, unsociable Chinese; stolid-faced men, dainty women, and big-eyed, beautiful children, all in gorgeous, flowing garments, pattered noiselessly through the crowd, apparently unconscious of the staring and remarks made by the gaping farmer from Iowa, who, with his wife and family, had spent his savings for a few glorious months in this California paradise.

Nash strolled aimlessly down Spring Street, and went into the Big Alexandria Hotel, and on through the crowded lobby to the grill. Here he ordered lunch, and enjoyed every morsel. It was nearly half an hour past the appointed time when he presented himself to the stenographer who guarded the inner offices of Mr. J. Sigsbee, in the big Equitable Bank Building. Sigsbee, while serving the city on the aqueduct construction, was interested in a large law firm.

When Nash found himself in the presence of Sigsbee, and discovered him to be none other than the man he had been refused an introduction to the previous night at Camp Forty-seven, he knew that, instead of clearing the problem was becoming more intricate.

His first impression of Jim Sigsbee was far from an agreeable one, although he was taken aback at the pleasant manner with which the politician greeted him. He imagined that the first thing Sigsbee would do would be to mention something of last night’s meeting. But in this he was disappointed.

“I am very glad to meet you, Mr. Nash,” he said frankly, extending his hand and smiling. “Please sit down.”

Sigsbee cleared away the papers from his desk, and gave orders to the girl in the outer office that he was not to be disturbed.

“Mr. Nash,” he began, swinging around in his chair, “I am a blunt man, and when I approach a subject I strike for the heart at the first blow. I have asked you here to talk over certain matters that have come to my notice. As one of the aqueduct board, these affairs interest me strongly. I have been elected to this board by the honest votes of the Los Angeles citizens, and I intend to do my duty toward them. You have found certain irregularities on foot in Camp Forty-seven. I want to compliment you, Mr. Nash. Men of your caliber are the men we desire on the great undertaking. I am not going to deny these irregularities, but I intend putting a stop to them _immediately_. Mr. Hooker, the foreman, is, in a measure, responsible. I have relieved him of the foremanship. The position is open to you. Will you accept?”

Nash did not attempt to mask his surprise.

“You wish me to take Mr. Hooker’s place?” he asked.

“Exactly. Hooker has proven himself to be unreliable. Camp Forty-seven is a most important station. It must be commanded by an upright, fearless man. I think you measure up to that standard, Mr. Nash.”

“This is a big proposition, and a sudden one,” Nash said. “But--well, if you will allow me to run the camp according to my ideas, I’ll accept.”

Sigsbee smiled and nodded vigorously. “Good! That’s the spirit I like to see. Since the beginning, I have interested myself in this particular camp, because I have been awarded a small steel contract. I want you to assume full charge and accept all the responsibility. Can I depend upon you?”

“You can, Mr. Sigsbee,” Nash answered. “You may hold me directly responsible for all matters of which I have charge. I believe that is one of the specifications in all the contract work, isn’t it?”

“Yes. Each foreman is supreme. To him is given all the praise, and likewise all the blame.”

“When will you want me to begin?”

“Right away--to-morrow.”

“That is agreeable to me.”

“Very well.” Sigsbee turned back his chair. “I will notify the aqueduct board at its next meeting--that is Monday. Your orders will come through me.”

“I shall obey them to the letter.”

“I’m sure of that,” said the politician, rising. “And let our motto be ‘All for Los Angeles.’” He accompanied the engineer to the outer office. “Will you step down and have a drink before going?”

Nash asked to be excused, to the other’s surprise. “Don’t indulge, eh? Not even one?”

“I’ve a lot of work ahead of me,” said Nash. “It’ll need a clear head. Thank you just the same.”

“You’ll smoke, won’t you?”

Sigsbee held out a cigar. Nash accepted it, and thanked him. He enjoyed a good cigar. Once down on the busy street, he lighted the weed, and walked slowly down to Fifth, and along this thoroughfare to the station. He was so busy with his own thoughts that he paid scant attention to what went on around him. So much had happened within the past twenty-four hours that it was small wonder he appeared preoccupied.

A hundred unanswered questions pounded at his brain; no sooner did he try to reason out one than a dozen rushed in. So, with a shrug of his shoulders, he resolved to give it all up and allow the problems to wag for a while.

“I’ve enough to do in minding my own affairs,” he told himself. “The other things will solve themselves.”

He reached the station just in time to catch a train back to San Fernando. He swung up on the last car, and made his way into the smoker. With a sigh of relief, he sank into the nearest seat.

“Well, there’s one thing certain,” he said, addressing the endless orange groves that stretched on either side of the track. “And that is, Camp Forty-seven is going to be heard from, and in the right way, for work accomplished and the cost of it.”