The stranger observed that he had pleasant quarters.
Ogilvie said that they answered very well.
“Are there other offices than those I have seen?” Rickard demanded of MacLean.
He shook his head. “Dormitories. We sleep here, a lot of us when we are not on duty. At least, we don’t sleep inside, unless it blows us in. We sleep out there.” He nodded in the direction of the lawn. “We dress and ‘gas’ in there.” His hand waved toward the rooms beyond.
By this time it was apparent that no one, save Hardin, knew of his coming. He was ahead of Marshall’s letters. He did not like the flavor of his entrance.
“What provision is being made for a new general manager?”
The question, aimed carelessly, hit the auditor.
“They are not talking of filling the position just yet,” he responded. “There is no need, at present. The work is going along nicely, better I might say, adjusted as it now is, than it did before.”
“I heard that they had sent a man from the Tucson office to represent Mr. Marshall.”
“Did you hear his name?” stammered Ogilvie.