The She Boss | Page 8

of seeking employment were
of the vaguest; he did not know where to look for it, nor what duties he

should state that he could perform. Dreaming of it up there in
Mendocino County, climbing up in the world from the bottom rung had
seemed so easy.
He began feeling a little lonesome. He had resolved to brave the
fascinating eyes of the girl of the restaurant again, and perhaps speak to
her if occasion offered, when the door opened and three men came into
the lounging room.
Two of them scraped chairs to the table and from a drawer took a dirty
pack of cards and a homemade cribbage board, with headless matches
for markers. The third took from his pocket a folded newspaper and sat
down at the window opposite Hiram. He at once began reading, and
seemed not to be a companion of the other two. Hiram took note that he
perused the want-ad sheets.
Hiram studied the two at cards. He resolved that he did not like their
unkempt looks, so turned his attention to the man with the paper.
In dress this man was in a class with the other two, though perhaps a
little better groomed. But a careful observer would have taken note of
certain finer characteristics in the face. It was the face of a man in the
thirties, robust and good-natured, with bushy brows, slate-blue eyes,
and a nose that would have been termed Grecian if it had not been for a
semiconical twist to the left. He was of stalky build, carefully shaved
that morning, and wore a dingy turndown collar. His shoes, though
scuffed with wear, were polished.
In the midst of this scrutiny the man suddenly lowered the paper and
leveled his eyes at Hiram. The look almost said "What do you want?"
in a disinterested though not antagonistic way. Hiram was caught
unawares. He felt the question and had answered it, to cover his
embarrassment, before he knew the words were coming.
"D'ye find any jobs in the paper?"
The two at cards looked quickly at Hiram and shrugged, and the game
went on in silence, as before.

"What d'ye follow?" asked the man with the twisted nose in a sort of
rollicking voice by no means unpleasant.
"D'ye mean what c'n I do?"
The man with the paper nodded.
Hiram scraped his chair a foot closer. "Why, I don't exactly know. I'm
willin' to do anything--that is, try."
The slate-blue eyes quizzically studied Hiram a little longer, then
settled on the paper once more.
A few moments they scanned the column. Then:
"Maybe some o' these'll look attractive ol'-timer. 'Wanted three
bushelmen; one coat-maker; first-class pants operator; shoe shiner; two
farm carpenters, Arizona, four dollars a day, fare refunded; two
carpenters, city, five dollars a day; one hundred muckers, New Mexico,
two-fifty day; one trammer, three-fifty day; one hundred laborers, New
Mexico, three dollars day; porter in bakery, city, must be sober; boy,
sixteen years old, make himself generally useful in pickle plant; two
jerkline drivers--must be good, southern California; cooks, waiters,
teamsters, muckers galore. Call and see us. Morgan & Stroud,
Four-hundred-and-fifteen Clay Street.'"
He lowered the paper and once more fixed the slate-blue eyes on Hiram.
"There you are, ol'-timer--pick yer road to wealth and prominence."
His smile brought Hiram's chair closer.
"How d'ye get any o' these jobs?" he asked.
"Part with two dollars to Morgan & Stroud for the address o' the
advertiser, then beat the other fella to it," was the reply.
"But they wanted a hundred muckers, you read."
"Oh, that's different. They ship you out for two dollars to where the job

is. The contractor deducts your fare from your first month's pay and
refunds it to the railroad company, or sticks it in his pocket if he's wise.
Le's see--where they shippin'?" He glanced at the column again. "N'
Mexico, eh? Yes, they'll ship you down there for two dollars, and you
c'n go to work and grow up with the country. C'n you drive a team?"
"Sure," said Hiram. "I c'n drive eight or ten, or even sixteen jerkline,
too. You read something about jerkline skinners."
"Then I'd go as a jerkline skinner at--what is it?--fifty-five and found.
Found means board, you know."
"And you're sure they'll send me down to southern California for two
dollars and gi' me a job drivin' mules?"
"They'll be tickled to death to do it. Where you from?"
Hiram heaved a sigh. "Mendocino County," he replied.
"Hittin' the trail for the first time, eh?"
The questioner evidently knew it, so Hiram did not reply.
"M'm-m! Fine big country--Mendocino. You oughta stayed there. That
country'll go to work and come out with a loud report some day."
"You've been there?" asked Hiram eagerly.
"Been everywhere."