The Dillon herald. [volume] (Dillon, S.C.) 1894-????, 1919-02-13

"What's Rickard doing?" asked the
infantile Hercules at the checkerboard.
The force called him Pete, which was
a short cut to Frederick Augustus
Bodefeldt.
taking Ogilvie's measure"-this
from MacLean.
"Then he's doing something else by
this time. That wouldn't take him five
minutes unless he's gull" snapped
Wooster, who hated Ogilvie as rat
does a snake.
The door opened and Rickard came
in. Almost simultaneously the outer
door opened to admit Hardin. Who
would introduce the new general man.
ager to the dismissed one? The
thought flashed from MacLean to ST.
lent, to the telegraph operator. .Bode-
feldt doubled over the checkerboard,
pretending not to see them. Confu-
sion, embarrassment was on every
face. Nobody spoke. Hardin was
coming closer.
"Hello, Hdrdin."
"Hello, Richard"
1t appeared friendly enough to the
surprised office. Both men were glad
that 1t was over.
"Nice Offices" remarked Hardin, his
legs outspread, his hands in his pock-
cts.
"Ogilvie is satisfied with them"
The men rather overdid the laugh.
"Finding the dust pretty tough?'' in
quired Hardin.
'I spent month in San Francisco
last SUMMER was the rejoinder.
'This is haven, though, from the
street. Thought I'd loaf for today"
Was Hardin game to do the right
thing, introduce him as the Few chief
to his subordinates? Nothing, it de-
veloped, was further from his inten-
ton. Hardin, his legs outstretched,
kept before his face the bland, i'm
penetrable smile of the oriental. 1t
was clearly not Richards move. The
checker players fidgeted. Richards
silence was interrogative. Hardin
still smiled.
The cutter door opened.
The newcomer, evidently fayorite,
walked into noisy welcome, the
'boys'" embarrassment OVERRIDING it.
He was of middle height, slender-a
Mexican with Castilian ancestry writ
ten in his high-bred features, his grace
and his straight, dark hair"
"Good morning, Estrada" said Har-
din with the same meaningless smile.
"Good morning, gentlemen" The
Mexican's greeting paused at Rickard.
"Mr. Estrada, Mr.. Richard"
Everyone in the office saw Hardin
snub his other opportunity. He had
betrayed to everyone his deep hurt,
his raw wound. When he had
stepped down, under cover of a resig.
nation, he had saved his face by tell.
ing everyone that a rupture with
Maitland, one Of the directors Of the
reorganized company, had made it
impossible for them to serve together,
and that Maitland's wealth and i'm.
portaTce 20 the company demanded his
own sacrifice. Two months before
Richards appearance Maitland had
been discovered dead in his bath In
Los Angeles hotel. Though no one
had been witless enough to speak of
their hope to Hardin, he knew that
all his force was daily expecting his
reinstatement. Richards entrance
was another stab to their chief.
"The son of the general?" The new
manager held out his hand. General
Estrada, friend of Mexican liberty,
founder of steamship companies and
father of the Imperial valley?"
"That makes me a brother Of the
valley"-Estrada' smile was sensitive
and sweet.
Estrada looked at Hardin, hesitated,
then passed on to the checker players
and addressed. MacLeanx
81 saw your father in Los Angeles.
He has been chosen to fill the vacancy
made by Maitlands death"
MacLean's eyes wavered toward
Hardin, whose nonchalance had not
faltered. Had he not heard, or did
he know, already?
"Td like to have a meeting, G con-
ference, tomorrow morning" Rickard
was speaking. "Mr. Hardin, will you
set the hour at your convenience"
Because it was so kindly done, Har-
din showed his first resentment. 1T
will not be possible for me to be there.
I'm going to Los Angeles in the morn
ing. . He turned and left the Office,
Estrada following him.
"Oh, Mr.. Hardin, you mustn't take 1t
that way" he exnostulated, concern In
each sensitive feature.
'T'll take orders from him, but he
gave me none" grov-'od Hardin. ITS
not what YOU sliLE. IN not sore. But
don't like him. He's a fancy dude.
He's not the man for this job"