Bryant, descending from the mesa into the river bottom and riding into the street, had he not known otherwise, might have supposed the population vanished in a body. But he was aware that it only slept; and he had no consideration for a siesta that retarded his affairs. He dismounted before the courthouse and entered the building, whose corridor and chambers appeared as silent, as lifeless, as forsaken as the street itself. Coming into the Recorder's office, he halted for a look about, then pushed through the wicket of the counter and stepped into an inner room, where he stirred by a thumb in the ribs a thin, dusky-skinned youth reclining in a swivel chair with feet in repose on a window-sill, who slept with head fallen back, arms hanging, and mouth open.
"Come, amigo, your dinner's settled by this time," the engineer stated. "Grab a pen and record this deed."
The clerk sleepily shifted his feet into a more comfortable position.
"We're behind in our work," said he. "Just leave your deed, and the fee, and we'll get around to it in a few days."
"So you're too busy now, eh?"
"Yes. We've had a good many papers to record this month."
"Where's the Recorder?"
"Not back from dinner yet," was the answer.
The speaker once again prepared to rest. From the outer office the slow ticking of a clock sounded with lulling effect, while the grassy yard beyond the window, shaded by the boughs of the cottonwoods, diffused peace and drowsiness. The clerk closed his eyes.
"Just leave the deed and fee on the desk here," he murmured.