A Step Up

Dusk was falling when Dick went to keep his appointment with his
employer. Fireflies glimmered in the brush beside the path, and the
lights of Santa Brigida flashed in a brilliant cluster on the edge of the
shadowy sea. High above, rugged peaks cut black against the sky, and the
land breeze that swept their lower slopes brought with it instead of
coolness a warm, spicy smell. There was more foliage when Dick reached
the foot of a projecting spur, for a dark belt of forest rolled down the
hill; and by and by he saw a big tent, that gleamed with a softened
radiance like a paper lantern, among a clump of palms. It seemed to be
well lighted inside, and Dick remembered having heard orders for electric
wires to be connected with the power-house at the dam.

Fuller obviously meant to give his daughter all the civilized comfort
possible, and Dick was glad he had been able to find a clean duck suit,
though he was not sure he had succeeded in removing all the oily grime
from his face. Nothing could be done with his hands. The knuckles were
scarred, the nails broken, and the black grease from the engine had
worked into his skin. Still, this did not matter much, because he had
gradually overcome his fastidiousness and it was not likely that Miss
Fuller would notice him.

She was, however, sitting outside the tent, from which an awning extended
so as to convert its front into a covered veranda, and Dick was half
surprised when she gave him a smile of recognition that warranted his
taking off his hat. Then Fuller, beckoning him to come forward, switched
on another lamp and the light fell on a table covered with plans. Dick
stopped when he reached it and waited, not knowing how his employer meant
to receive him.