"What for?" countered the old man. "I'd just get fired. There ain't no good in saying anything. He's my superior officer. They used to teach me in the army that I ain't got no call to criticize what my officer does. It's my job to obey orders the best I can."
"Why do you tell me, then?"
"You're my superior officer, too—and his."
"So were all the other inspectors who have been here."
"Them—hell!" said California John.
Thorne returned to his hotel very thoughtful. It was falling dark, and the preliminary bell had rung for supper. Nevertheless he lit his lamp and clicked off a letter to a personal friend in the Land Office requesting the latter to forward all Plant's vouchers for the past two years. Then he hunted up Auntie Belle.
"I thought I should tell you that I won't be leaving my room Wednesday, as I thought," said he. "My business will detain me longer."
[a/]