As the time wore on I suspected that my men grew uneasy, wondering what
we were there for, and why I did not make some move. Then I reflected
that this could not be. It was I who was wondering. The men were
accustomed to let me do their thinking for them, and could be troubled
no more here than in San Francisco. But what was I expected to do?
Where could my orders be? Had they gone astray? Had the plans of the
Unknown come to disaster through the difficulty of getting the
telegraph on Sunday? The office here was closed. The Unknown, being a
woman, I ungallantly reflected, would have neglected to take so small a
circumstance into consideration, and she might even now be besieging
the telegraph office in San Francisco in a vain effort to get word to
Livermore.
On this thought I bestirred myself, and after much trouble had speech
with the young man who combined in his person the offices of telegraph
operator, station master, ticket seller, freight agent and baggage
handler for the place. He objected to opening the office "out of office
hours."
"There might be inducements discovered that would make it worth your
while, I suppose?" I said, jingling some silver carelessly in my
pocket.
He smiled.
"Well, I don't care if I do," he replied. "Whatever you think is fair,
of course."
It was more than I thought fair, but the agent thawed into friendship
at once, and expressed his readiness to "call San Francisco" till he
got an answer if it took till dark.
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