out here on the job and said we were working the men too
hard--said we'd have to put ten men on the heavy sticks and eight on the
others. I was going to do it, but Peterson came up and said he wouldn't do
it, and Grady called the men off, just where they were. He wouldn't let
'em lift a finger. You see there's timber all over the tracks. Then Pete
got mad, and said him and Donnelly could bring a twenty-foot stick over
alone, and it was all rot about putting on more men. Here they come--just
look at Pete's arms! He could lift a house."

Some of the men were laughing, others growling, but all had their eyes
fixed on Peterson and Donnelly as they came across the tracks, slowly
picking their way, and shifting the weight a little, at every few seconds,
on their shoulders. Bannon was glancing swiftly about, taking in the
situation. He would not imperil his discipline by reproving Peterson
before the men, so he stood for a moment, thinking, until the task should
be accomplished.

"It's Briggs that did the whole business," Max was saying. "He brought the
delegate around--he was blowing about it among the men when I found him."

"Is he on the job now?" Bannon asked.

"No, and I don't think he'll be around again very soon. There were some
loafers with him, and they took him away."

Peterson and Donnelly had disappeared through the fence, and a few of the
crowd were following, to see them get the timber clear around the building
to the pile.

"Have you sent out flagmen, Max?" Bannon asked.

"No, I didn't."

"Get at it quick--send a man each way with a lantern--put something red
over them, their shirts if necessary."

"None of the men will dare do it while the delegate's here."

"Find some one--take one side yourself, if you have to."

Max hurried away for the lanterns, Bannon walked out to the group of men
on the middle tracks.

"Where's Mr. Grady?" he said.

One of the men pointed, but the delegate gave no attention.

"You're Mr. Grady, are you?" said Bannon. "I'm Mr. Bannon, of MacBride &
Company. What's the trouble here?"

The delegate was revelling in his authority: his manner was not what it
was to be when he should know Bannon better. He waved his hand toward the
wharf.

"You ought to know better than that," he said curtly.

"Than what?"

"Than what?--than running a job the way this is run."

"I think I can run this job," said Bannon, quietly. "You haven't told me
what's the trouble yet."

"It's ri