"Now, you have given me an idea of what you might _have_ to do. But to get back to desire or choice;--what would it be then?" he inquired, as the electric tram pa.s.sed at last from the tree stumps and began to draw, through signs of habitation, toward the city.

"If I had my desire and my choice, Mr. Horsfal, they would be: in such a climate as we have here but away somewhere up the coast, with the sea in front of me and the trees and the hills behind me; the open air, the sunlight; contending with the natural,--not the artificial,--obstacles of life; work, with a sufficiency of leisure; quiet, when quiet were desired; and, in the evening as the sun went down into the sea or behind the hills, a cosy fire, a good book and my pipe going good."

K. B. Horsfal, millionaire, patentee, lumberman and meat-packer, looked at me, sighed and nodded his head.

"After all, my boy," he said, almost sadly, "I shouldn't wonder if that isn't better than all the h.e.l.lish wealth-hunting that ever was or ever shall be. Stick to your ideals. Try them out if you can. As for me,--it's too late. I am saturated with the money-getting mania; I am in the maelstrom and I couldn't get out if I tried. I'm in it for good."

Our conversation was brought to an abrupt ending, as Mr. Horsfal had to make a short call at one of the newspaper offices, on some business matter. We got out of the tram together. I waited for him while he made his call, then we walked back leisurely to the hotel; happy, pleasantly tired and hungry as hunters.

I was regaled in the dining-room as the guest of my American friend.

"Are you going to be in for the balance of the evening?" he asked, as I rose to leave him at the conclusion of our after-dinner smoke.

"Yes!"

"Good!" he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed, rather abruptly.

And why he should have thought it "good," puzzled me not a little as I went up in the elevator.

CHAPTER VIII

Golden Crescent

I had been sitting in my room for two hours, reading, and once in a while, thinking over the strange adventures that had befallen me since I had started out from home some three short weeks before. I was trying to picture to myself how it had all gone in the old home; I was wondering if my father's heart had softened any to his absent son.

I reasoned whether, after all, I had done right in interfering between my brother Harry and his fiancee; but, when I thought of poor little Peggy Darrol and the righteous indignation and anger of her brother Jim, I felt, that if I had to go through all of it again, I would do as I had done already.

My telephone bell rang. I answered.

It was the hotel exchange operator.

"h.e.l.lo!--is that room 280?"

"Yes!" I answered.

"Mr. George Bremner?"

"Yes!"

"A gentleman in room 16 wishes to see you. Right away, if you can, sir!"

"What name?" I asked.

"No name given, sir."

"All right! I'll go down at once. Thank you!"

I laid aside my pipe and threw on my coat. On reaching the right landing, I made my way along an almost interminable corridor, until I stood before the mysterious room 16.

As I entered, a respectably dressed, middle-aged man was coming out, hat in hand. Two others were sitting inside, apparently waiting an interview, while a smart-looking young lady,--evidently a stenographer,--was showing a fourth into the room adjoining.

It dawned on me that this request to call must be the outcome of the letter I had written that morning in answer to the newspaper advertis.e.m.e.nt.

I immediately a.s.sumed what I thought to be the correct, meek expression of a man looking for work; with, I hope, becoming timidity and nervousness, I whispered my name to the young lady. Then I took a seat alongside one of my fellow applicants, who eyed me askance and with what I took to be amused tolerance.

Five minutes, and the young lady ushered out the man who had been on the point of being interviewed as I had come in.

"Mr. Monaghan?" queried the lady.

Mr. Monaghan rose and followed her.

An interval of ten minutes, and Mr. Monaghan went after his predecessor.

"Mr. Rubenstein?" asked the lady.

Mr. Rubenstein, who, every inch of him, looked the part, went through the routine of Mr. Monaghan, leaving me alone in the waiting room.

At last my turn came and I was ushered into the "sanctum." I had put my head only inside the door, when the bluff voice I had learned that day to know shouted merrily:

"h.e.l.lo! George. What do you know? Come on in and sit down."

And there was Mr. Horsfal, as large as life, sitting behind a desk with a pile of letters in front of him.

I was keenly disappointed and I fear I showed it. Only this,--after all my rising hopes,--the genial Mr. Horsfal wished to chat with me now that he had got his business worries over.

"Why!--what's the matter, son? You look crestfallen."

"I am, too," I answered. "I was not aware which rooms you occupied and, when I received the telephone message to come here and saw those men waiting, I felt sure I had received an answer to my application for a position I saw in the papers this morning."

Mr. Horsfal leaned back in his chair and surveyed me.

"Well,--no need to get crestfallen, George. When you had that thought, your thinking apparatus was in perfect working order."

My eyes showed surprise. "You don't mean----"

"Yes! George."

"What?--'wanted,--alert, strong, handy man, to supervise up-coast property. One who can run country store preferred. Must be sober,'" I quoted.

"The very same. I've been interviewing men for a week now and I'm sick of it. I got your letter this evening. But all day I have had it in my mind that you were the very man I wanted, sent from the clouds right to me."

"But,--but," I exclaimed. "I am afraid I have not the experience a man requires for such a job."

K. B. Horsfal thumped his desk.

"Lord sakes! man,--don't start running yourself down. Boost,--boost yourself for all you're worth."