"If this goes on," muttered John Ryder, "I shall become a sot. I have drunk more between-meal drinks within the last twenty-four hours than I ever did before in my life. They say getting married sobers most men; it seems as though it may utterly wreck _me_--morally!" When he wandered back into the office George had returned and beckoned him to the desk. "I've had a couple of hours' sleep, Mr. Ryder, and that's all," the clerk said. "And it's all I guess I'll get. Mr. Manger hasn't come back and isn't likely to; and although Jim Howe is willing, he's only good for detail work. He's got to come to me to ask about every little thing. And now, by Jove! _I've_ got to come to you, sir." "Come to me?" growled Ryder. "What for? I'm through. You can't expect me to shoulder the responsibilities of running this hotel." "I just want your advice, Mr. Ryder," said George, the foxy. "Look around at these other men. They are all useless to me now. Aside from Al--who has his own work--you are the only man with a head on him." "I'm not sure whether I have a head or not," grumbled Ryder. "But fire up! What's happened?" "Why, I filed a telegram to Mr. Giddings last night, and here's what I get in reply," the clerk hastened to say, handing the crumpled sheet to Ryder. It read: "Giddings out of town. Return Monday. Should advise keeping house open at any cost.--BLACKMAN." "Now, I don't know who the dickens Blackman is, unless he's Mr. Giddings' chief clerk," the worried George said. "But this wire doesn't give me proper authority to go ahead and contract bills, promise to pay help, and all that. I don't know how to reach any of the Barnaby heirs. They may read something about our trouble in the papers this afternoon, for our local correspondent is on the job. "But the heirs will expect Giddings to attend to it. The help are troublesome--those that have remained. Al has his hands full, believe me! And the guests are kicking like steers about the heating. We've got to have coal." "Can't you buy a little in the town?" "It would be mighty little. These dealers here--and there are only two of them--buy from hand to mouth, as you might say. And then, Mr. Ryder, I'm a poor man. My salary isn't big. This looks like a diamond in my tie," and George grinned; "but it is pure glass. I wear it because it seems a man can't be a sure-enough hotel clerk without wearing what looks like a 'chunk of ice.' "You know," the clerk added more seriously, "Bangs bought his coal from the railroad company." "Can't you get some from them?" "Well, I tried to bluff them on it," said George. "I managed to get them on the telephone at the Junction--Divisional Supervisions office. There is still something wrong with the long distance service. They can get us a car by next Tuesday; not a minute before." "These folks'll freeze to death here," said Ryder. "It's already colder this morning. And there's nothing being done to that bridge, I suppose?"