“Sigsbee send any further orders?” he asked, after he had finished.
“That’s all, Nash. I came down from San Fernando in his car. The moon’s up now, so I might as well be hitting the trail back. Like to take a little spin?”
“Not to-night, thank you,” Nash replied. “Got too much work to do.”
Hooker frowned, and shrugged his shoulders. Before leaving the cabin he turned, and said: “Don’t take things so serious, Nash. I didn’t mean anything when I said you——”
“Of course you didn’t,” Nash interrupted dryly. “Convey my best wishes to Sigsbee, will you?”
Hooker went out, slamming the door behind him. Long after the sound of the chugging motor had died away on the still night air, Nash remained bending over his desk, marshaling into order the confusing rows of figures, transferring the totals from his memorandum book to the ledger, and preparing, as he always did, for the work of the coming day.
The subject touched upon by the old foreman brought back an instant and bitter flood of memories; but he fought against them, crushed them back, firm in his resolve not to allow the past to interfere with the duties on hand.
CHAPTER XVII.
GETTING READY.
Early the next morning, while Nash was still at breakfast, a man came running up with the information that a body had been found at the foot of a high cliff, a short distance from where the siphon was being constructed.
“One of our men?” Nash questioned, concerned over the news, but not surprised, as accidents, from one cause or another, among the thousand-odd laborers were frequent.