“You can run the work here this afternoon, Harry,” Tom declared. “I shall want to put in my time with Mr. Ellsworth.”
“Was he the answer to your telegram?”
Tom offered no further information, but hurried away to meet the general manager, who had come out to camp in an automobile hired at Paloma. Manager and chief engineer now toured slowly toward town, Harry watching them as long as they were in sight.
“Tom has something big in the wind,” muttered Hazelton. “It must be something about the hotel fire. What can it be? At any rate, I'll wager it's something that pleases my chum wonderfully.”
Nor did Tom return until late in the afternoon. He came back alone.
“Well?” demanded Harry.
“Yes,” nodded Tom. “It's well.”
“What is?”
“The game.”
“What is the game?”