Calumet 'K'. Webster Henry Kitchell

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СКАЧАТЬ for even if he could be made to understand, he could undo nothing. Bannon had known a good many walking delegates, and he had found them, so far, square. But it would be a large-minded man who could overlook what Peterson had done. However, there was no help for it. All that remained was to wait till the business agent should make the next move.

      So Bannon put the whole incident out of his mind, and until noon inspected the job in earnest. By the time the whistle blew, every one of the hundreds of men on the job, save Peterson himself, knew that there was a new boss. There was no formal assumption of authority; Bannon's supremacy was established simply by the obvious fact that he was the man who knew how. Systematizing the confusion in one corner, showing another gang how to save handling a big stick twice, finally putting a runway across the drillage of the annex, and doing a hundred little things between times, he made himself master.

      The afternoon he spent in the little office, and by four o'clock had seen everything there was in it, plans, specifications, building book, bill file, and even the pay roll, the cash account, and the correspondence. The clerk, who was also timekeeper, exhibited the latter rather grudgingly.

      "What's all this stuff?" Bannon asked, holding up a stack of unfiled letters.

      "Letters we ain't answered yet."

      "Well, we'll answer them now," and Bannon commenced dictating his reply to the one on top of the stack.

      "Hold on," said the clerk, "I ain't a stenographer."

      "So?" said Bannon. He scribbled a brief memorandum on each sheet. "There's enough to go by," he said. "Answer 'em according to instructions."

      "I won't have time to do it till to-morrow some time."

      "I'd do it to-night, if I were you," said Bannon, significantly. Then he began writing letters himself.

      Peterson and Vogel came into the office a few minutes later.

      "Writing a letter to your girl?" said Peterson, jocularly.

      "We ought to have a stenographer out here, Pete."

      "Stenographer! I didn't know you was such a dude. You'll be wanting a solid silver electric bell connecting with the sody fountain next."

      "That's straight," said Bannon. "We ought to have a stenographer for a fact."

      He said nothing until he had finished and sealed the two letters he was writing. They were as follows: —

      Dear Mr. Brown: It's a mess and no mistake. I'm glad Mr. MacBride didn't come to see it. He'd have fits. The whole job is tied up in a hard knot. Peterson is wearing out chair bottoms waiting for the cribbing from Ledyard. I expect we will have a strike before long. I mean it.

      The main house is most up to the distributing floor. The spouting house is framed. The annex is up as far as the bottom, waiting for cribbing. Yours,

Bannon.

      P.S. I hope this letter makes you sweat to pay you for last Saturday night. I am about dead. Can't get any sleep. And I lost thirty-two pounds up to Duluth. I expect to die down here.

      C. B.

      P.S. I guess we'd better set fire to the whole damn thing and collect the insurance and skip.

      C.

      The other was shorter.

      MacBride & Company, Minneapolis:

      Gentlemen: I came on the Calumet job to-day. Found it held up by failure of cribbing from Ledyard. Will have at least enough to work with by end of the week. We will get the house done according to specifications.

Yours truly,MacBride & Company.Charles Bannon.

      CHAPTER II

      The five o'clock whistle had sounded, and Peterson sat on the bench inside the office door, while Bannon washed his hands in the tin basin. The twilight was already settling; within the shanty, whose dirty, small-paned windows served only to indicate the lesser darkness without, a wall lamp, set in a dull reflector, threw shadows into the corners.

      "You're coming up with me, ain't you?" said Peterson. "I don't believe you'll get much to eat. Supper's just the pickings from dinner."

      "Well, the dinner was all right. But I wish you had a bigger bed. I ain't slept for two nights."

      "What was the matter?"

      "I was on the sleeper last night; and I didn't get in from the Duluth job till seven o'clock Saturday night, and Brown was after me before I'd got my supper. Those fellows at the office wouldn't let a man sleep at all if they could help it. Here I'd been working like a nigger 'most five months on the Duluth house – and the last three weeks running night shifts and Sundays; didn't stop to eat, half the time – and what does Brown do but – 'Well,' he says, 'how're you feeling, Charlie?' 'Middling,' said I. 'Are you up to a little job to-morrow?' 'What's that?' I said. 'Seems to me if I've got to go down to the Calumet job Sunday night I might have an hour or so at home.' 'Well, Charlie,' he says, 'I'm mighty sorry, but you see we've been putting in a big rope drive on a water-power plant over at Stillwater. We got the job on the high bid,' he says, 'and we agreed to have it running on Monday morning. It'll play the devil with us if we can't make good.' 'What's the matter?' said I. 'Well,' he says, 'Murphy's had the job and has balled himself up.'"

      By this time the two men had their coats on, and were outside the building.

      "Let's see," said Bannon, "we go this way, don't we?"

      "Yes."

      There was still the light, flying flakes of snow, and the biting wind that came sweeping down from the northwest. The two men crossed the siding, and, picking their way between the freight cars on the Belt Line tracks, followed the path that wound across the stretch of dusty meadow.

      "Go ahead," said Peterson; "you was telling about Murphy."

      "Well, that was the situation. I could see that Brown was up on his hind legs about it, but it made me tired, all the same. Of course the job had to be done, but I wasn't letting him have any satisfaction. I told him he ought to give it to somebody else, and he handed me a lot of stuff about my experience. Finally I said: 'You come around in the morning, Mr. Brown. I ain't had any sleep to speak of for three weeks. I lost thirty-two pounds,' I said, 'and I ain't going to be bothered to-night.' Well, sir, he kind of shook his head, but he went away, and I got to thinking about it. Long about half-past seven I went down and got a time-table. There was a train to Stillwater at eight-forty-two."

      "That night?"

      "Sure. I went over to the shops with an express wagon and got a thousand feet of rope – had it in two coils so I could handle it – and just made the train. It was a mean night. There was some rain when I started, but you ought to have seen it when I got to Stillwater – it was coming down in layers, and mud that sucked your feet down halfway to your knees. There wasn't a wagon anywhere around the station, and the agent wouldn't lift a finger. It was blind dark. I walked off the end of the platform, and went plump into a mudhole. I waded up as far as the street crossing, where there was an electric light, and ran across a big lumber yard, and hung around until I found the night watchman. He was pretty near as mean as the station agent, but he finally let me have a wheelbarrow for half a dollar, and told me how to get to the job.

      "He called it fifty rods, but it was a clean mile if it was a step, and most of the way down the track. I wheeled her back СКАЧАТЬ