Those two—down to see the white lights on a vacation—were from Johnny Martley’s maintenance gang which worked out from French Bar Power-House. In their lives the President of Power-Light was only a vague “big-shot,” but the L. D. spoke with the voice of God. In this opinion they did not differ from some thousands of other employees in the far-reaching system—linemen, operators, ditch-tenders, switchboardmen, foremen, even superintendents of sub-stations and power-houses. Many hundreds of them had never seen him, but he was as close as the telephone-bell. Generally some subordinate was on the line: “The L. D. says . . .”; occasionally it was even more like a thunderbolt: “The L. D. speaking . . .” In Plumas County a ditch-tender’s wife kept her children quiet by threatening to “tell the L. D.” During the fire at North Fork Power-House a Mexican laborer in imminent danger of being cooked had spontaneously called for help to the L. D. instead of the Virgin.

Nevertheless the actual Load-Dispatcher who entered his office at 7:59 was not god-like in appearance. His office too was ordinary; since the public did not penetrate to it, the company saw no reason to replace a shabby desk which had stood there out of memory.

The L. D. pressed a buzzer. A man in shirt-sleeves entered; he wore a green eye-shade, and had a portable telephone-transmitter on his chest.

“Hello, Terry,” said the L. D. “What news?”

“French Bar reported a momentary short—just after midnight—on their sixty k-v line.”

“Has Martley reported what caused it?”

“No, not yet.”

The L. D. was silent for the space of six seconds. Through his mind were rushing figures which represented time and space modified by conditions of topography, season of year, and efficiency of men. From long skill the calculation was so rapid that it resembled intuition; thus by being so highly rational the L. D. had gained the reputation of playing hunches.

“If Martley doesn’t call before eight-seventeen, get in touch with him.”

“Yes, sir.”

The L. D. noted, not without satisfaction, the slightly awed air with which Terry departed. Well, he hoped eight-seventeen would be all right; Martley was as good as any of them, but the open winter tended to make men get slack. Nevertheless, to ask for a report too soon merely made men think the L. D. was nervous or petulant or demanding the impossible. To let them report before you asked encouraged them to be slow. But if by keen calculation you hit close to the exact minute, word of it would run along the company lines from Shasta to Tehachapi, and every man in the system would get on his toes, feeling that the L. D. was watching.