thout it.

He had been raising the query mentally one July morning on his way to
work after a close, restless night in his big room on the hill. The day
was a sultry one; no air stirred, and it was with a sigh that Peter
entered the beamhouse. No sooner was he inside, however, than he at once
saw that something was wrong. Knots of men were speaking together in
undertones and seemed to be far more eager to talk than to take up their
daily tasks. Only Bryant, who moved from one group to another, urging,
coaxing, commanding, succeeded in compelling them to attend to what they
had to do.

"You fellows can do all the talking you want to at noon," he said.
"There will be no builders around to-day, I guess."

"They'll do well to keep away!" muttered an angry Swede, threateningly.

"You go to unhairing skins, Olsen," Bryant commanded, putting his hand
firmly but kindly on the broad shoulder of the man. "You can scold your
wrath all out this noon. Go on."

Sullenly the man obeyed.

"What is the matter?" Peter managed to whisper to Nat Jackson.

"The men are furious; they are threatening to strike," returned Nat in
an undertone.

"To strike!" exclaimed Peter. His thoughts flew to his father. "What has
happened?" he questioned insistently.

"Didn't you see last night's paper? Haven't you heard? Mr. Coddington is
going to put up another tannery. He's going to build it on the ball
field!"

"On the ball field! Our field!"

"So the paper says. Of course the land is his. But it does seem pretty
tough!"

Peter moved on, dazed.

To take away the field--the one out-of-door spot for luncheon and
exercise! To deprive hundreds of stifled creatures of fresh air and
sunlight! It was monstrous! Why hadn't his father mentioned the plan? Of
course he did not realize what it would mean to the men or he never
would have considered it. What would become of all those tired people
who nightly left their bare little dwellings and sought a cool evening
breeze in the field? Peter knew Nat and his mother always sat there
until bedtime and many of the other workmen brought their wives and
children. Once the boy had sat there himself. It was an orderly crowd
that he had seen--children tumbling over each other on the grass; women
seated on the benches and exchanging a bit of gossip; tired men
stretched full-length on the turf resting in the quiet of the place.

Why, it was a crime to take the field away!

All the morning while he worked P