“Don’t be snobbish. There are plenty of them, no doubt.”
“You don’t happen to know any of them yourself, do you?”
“Not socially; I wasn’t here long enough last spring to go about any, though I did meet some of the solider citizens in the railroad connection: Governor Evans, ‘Uncle Johnny’ Smith,—he owns the American House, you know,—Colonel Eicholtz, Mr. Walter Cheesman, the Barth brothers, Kountze, president of the Colorado National; men like that, most of them old residents.”
“The ‘First Families,’” Bromley mused. “Of course there would be some dating back to the ’sixties and the ox-team and ‘Pike’s-Peak-or-bust’ days; not so very ancient, at that, but still with the distinguishing hallmark of the pioneers. We’ll fish around for some introductions.”
Philip sat back in his chair, shaking his head.
“I’m not at all sure that I want to go in for the social whirl just yet, Harry,” he deprecated. “I want to find the Dabneys first, if I can; and after that ... perhaps you may remember that I once told you what my principal object was in heading for the west?”
“About your father; yes, I remember. You said at the time that you had no definite clue to his whereabouts. Has anything come to light since?”
“No; nothing.”
“Going to be a rather blind job, looking for him, isn’t it?”
“Utterly blind. It will be only by chance, if I find him.”