That was another of his problems, Hyde reflected irritably. "Sydney Ducks." There would be many more no doubt, for San Francisco was growing. It had 500 citizens, irrespective of the New York volunteers; 157 buildings. He would need helpers in the task of city-governing. Half idly he jotted down the names of men that would prove good henchmen:
"William A. Leidesdorff, Robert A. Parker, Jose P. Thompson, Pedro Sherreback, John Rose, Benjamin Buckalew."
It had a cosmopolitan smack, though it ignored some prominent and capable San Franciscans. William Clark, for instance, with whom Washington Bartlett had quarreled over town lots, Dr. Elbert Jones and William Howard. Hyde was not certain whether they would be amenable to his program. Well, he would see.
A shadow loomed in his doorway. He looked up to see Adrian Stanley and Robert Windham.
"Come in. Come in." He tried to speak cordially, but there was a shade of irritation in his tone. They, too, were a problem.
"Be seated," he invited, as the two men entered. But they stood before him rather stiffly.
"Is there any--news?" asked Adrian.
"Nothing favorable," said Hyde uneasily. He made an impatient gesture. "You can see for yourselves, gentlemen, that my hands are tied. The man--what's-his-name?--McTurpin, has a perfectly correct conveyance signed by your son. Benito, I understand, does not deny his signature. And his right is unquestioned, for the property came to him direct from his uncle, who was Francisco Garvez' only son."
"But--" began Adrian hotly.
"Yes, yes, I know," Hyde interrupted. "The man is a rascal. But what of that? It does not help us; I have no power to aid you, gentlemen."