Three hours later Ogilvy was in possession of the most minute details
of the situation in Sequoia, had tabulated, indexed, and cross-
indexed them in his ingenious brain and was ready for business--and
so announced himself. "And inasmuch as that hundred you sent me has
been pretty well shattered," he concluded, "suppose you call in your
cold-hearted manager who refused me alms on your credit, and give him
orders to honour my sight-drafts. If I'm to light in Sequoia looking
like ready money, I've got to have some high-class, tailor-made
clothes, and a shine and a shave and a shampoo and a trunk and a
private secretary. If there was a railroad running into Sequoia, I'd
insist on a private car."
This final detail having been attended to, Mr. Ogilvy promptly
proceeded to forget business and launched forth into a recital of his
manifold adventures since leaving Princeton; and when at length all
of their classmates had been accounted for and listed as dead,
married, prosperous, or pauperized, the amiable and highly
entertaining Buck took his departure with the announcement that he
would look around a little and try to buy some good second-hand
grading equipment and a locomotive, in addition to casting an eye
over the labour situation and sending a few wires East for the
purpose of sounding the market on steel rails.
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