Calumet 'K'. Webster Henry Kitchell

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СКАЧАТЬ very much, only in little ways. I guess it's just this section boss that does it on his own hook. He's a sort of a fool, you know, and he's got it into his head that we're trying to do him some way."

      Bannon put his hands into his pockets, and studied the checkered pattern in the ground shadow of the nearest arc lamp. Then he slowly shook his head.

      "No," he said, "that ain't it. He's too big a fool to do much on his own hook. He's acting on orders of some sort, and that's just what I don't understand. As a general thing a railroad's mighty white to an elevator. Come to think of it, they said something about it up at the office," – he was apparently speaking to himself, and Max quietly waited, – "Brown said something about the C. & S. C. having got in the way a little down here, but I didn't think much about it at the time."

      "What could they do?" Max asked.

      "A lot, if they wanted to. But that ain't what's bothering me. They haven't any connection with the G. & M., have they?"

      "No" – Max shook his head – "no, not that I know of."

      "Well, it's funny, that's all. The man behind those orders that the section boss talks about is the general manager; and it's my notion that we're likely to hear from him again. I'll tell you what it is. Somebody – I don't know who, but somebody – is mighty eager to keep this house from being finished by the first of January. After this I wish you'd keep your eyes open for this section boss. Have you had any trouble with the men?"

      "No, only that clerk that we laid off to-day, he 'lowed he was going to make trouble. I didn't say anything about it, because they always talk like that."

      "Yes, I know. What's his name?"

      "Briggs."

      "I guess he can't hurt us any."

      Bannon turned back to his work; and Vogel disappeared in the shadows along the path.

      Nine o'clock came, and the timber was still coming in. The men were growing tired and surly from the merciless strain of carrying the long, heavy sticks. The night was raw and chill. Bannon felt it as he stood directing the work, and he kept his hands in his pockets, and wished he had worn his overcoat; but the laborers, barearmed and bare-headed, clad only in overalls or in thin trousers and cotton shirts, were shaking sweat from their eyes, and stealing moments between trips to stand where the keen lake breeze could cool them. Another half-hour or so should see the last stick on the piles, and Bannon had about decided to go over to the office when he saw Vogel moving among the men, marking their time in his book.

      "Here, Max," he called, adding, when Vogel had reached his side: "Just keep an eye on this, will you? I'll be at the office. Keep things going just as they are."

      There was a light in the office. Bannon stepped into the doorway, and, with a suppressed word of impatience, stood looking at the scene within. The desk that Peterson had supplied for the use of his clerk was breast-high from the floor, built against the wall, with a high stool before it. The wall lamp had been taken down; now it stood with its reflector on the top of the desk, which was covered with books and papers. A girl was sitting on the stool, bending over a ledger and rapidly footing up columns. Bannon could not see her face, for a young fellow stood leaning over the railing by the desk, his back to the door. He had just said something, and now he was laughing in a conscious manner.

      Bannon quietly stepped to one side. The girl looked up for a moment and brushed her hair back from her face. The fellow spoke again in a low tone, but beyond a slight compressing of her lips she did not seem to hear him. Without a word, Bannon came forward, took him by the arm, and led him out of the door. Still holding his arm, he took a step back, and (they stood in the outer circle of the electric light) looked him over.

      "Let's see," he said, "you're the man that was clerking here."

      There was no reply.

      "And your name's – what?"

      "Briggs."

      "Well, Mr. Briggs, did you get a message from me?"

      "I don't know what you mean," said the young man, his eyes on the ground. "Max, he come around, but I wanted to wait and see you. He's a mean cuss – "

      "You see me now, don't you?"

      "Yes." The reply was indistinct.

      "You keep out of the office after this. If I catch you in there again, I won't stop to talk. Now, clear out."

      Briggs walked a little way, then turned.

      "Maybe you think you can lay me off without notice – but you'll wish – "

      Bannon turned back to the office, giving no heed to Briggs' last words: "I've got you fixed already." He was thinking of the girl there on the stool. She did not look like the girl he had expected to see. To be sure her hair was red, but it was not of the red that outcropped from Max's big head; it was of a dark, rich color, and it had caught the light from the lamp with such a shine as there is in new red gold. When he entered, she was again footing columns. She was slender, and her hand, where it supported her forehead was white. Again Bannon stood motionless, slowly shaking his head. Then he came forward. She heard his step and looked up, as if to answer a question, letting her eyes rest on his face. He hesitated, and she quietly asked: —

      "What is it, please?"

      "Miss Vogel?"

      "Yes."

      "I'm Mr. Bannon. There wasn't any need of your working to-night. I'm just keeping the men on so we can get in this cribbing. When did you come?"

      "My brother telephoned to me. I wanted to look things over before starting in to-morrow."

      "How do you find it?"

      She hesitated, glancing over the jumble of papers on the desk.

      "It hasn't been kept up very well," she presently said. "But it won't be hard, I think, to straighten it out."

      Bannon leaned on the rail and glanced at the paper on which she had been setting down totals.

      "I guess you'd better go home, Miss Vogel. It's after nine o'clock."

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