Babcock said that the damage by earthquake to that city was not known, but it was afire. San Jose had confirmed it. Oakland had reported the flames creeping up the residence hills of that gay western city. Cinders were already falling in the transbay town.
Rickard dropped the receiver. “Where’s Hardin?”
Tom Hardin emerged from a knot of men who were talking in a corner by the door.
“Where’s that machinery?”
“What machinery?”
Rickard saw the answer to his question in the other’s face.
“The dredge machinery. Did you attend to that? Did you send for it?”
“Oh, yes, that’s all right. It’s all right.”
“Is it here?”
Hardin attempted jocularity. “I didn’t know as you wanted it here. I ordered it sent to Yuma.”