“That isn’t the question, Mr. Hooker. I didn’t ask if you needed a man. I merely asked for a position. I have a letter here which you might like to see.”
The foreman evinced immediate interest. Nash brought out the letter and handed it to him. Hooker accepted it with a frown, read it through, and instantly he did so a transformation took place. His frown dissolved, his former suspicious and dubious manner became one of cordiality.
“Why didn’t you say something about this at first?” he exclaimed. “Of course I’ll find a place for you. Whatever Sigsbee says goes—especially in Camp Forty-seven.”
The abrupt and unexpected demeanor—the smile succeeding the frown—and the promptness with which the foreman offered him a position were not lost upon Nash. The latter realized vaguely, but none the less certainly, that the signature at the bottom of that letter carried a great deal of weight. Nash had never heard of Jim Sigsbee, but imagined he must be some one high in authority—possibly engineer in chief of the construction corps. He wondered how a man of the vagrant’s type had managed to gain such a letter—and for the moment his conscience troubled him. Hooker would have refused him a position had not these few written words and the seemingly magic name of Sigsbee been offered. Then, he wondered, was he doing the right thing by all concerned in remaining silent and accepting?
“Here’s where we get off,” Hooker announced. “We’ll cut across the hill and make the camp in five minutes.”
Nash obeyed, his mind fully made up. He would accept. The vagrant had had the opportunity to obtain a position, and had scorned it. Nash argued with himself that he was practically penniless, and that a job, however insignificant, was a necessity. He climbed down from the cement and followed the lead of the foreman, who by this time was disappearing over the shoulder of the hill.
“You geta the job?” yelled Joe, the driver, waving his hand and grinning, apparently having overheard some of the conversation. “Good for you! Maybe I see you again some day. Good-by!”
Nash returned Joe’s good wishes, and soon caught up with Hooker. They walked side by side down the rough trail, winding in and out, gradually reaching a lower level.
“I like your style,” said the foreman, breaking the silence that lasted between them. “You have one virtue that spells success.”
“What is that?”