too," sneered Murphy. "Build a siding and I'll take a
chance, though it ain't fair to Molly. Ye'll nade one anyway. Trains
ought to have a chance to pull up where it's safe and say their prayers
before tempting Providence on those straws. Why don't ye set up a
saloon where the passengers can get drunk first--"

"Look here, man, the whole camp's at supper. They wouldn't work an
extra hour for the devil."

"Why don't ye let somebody else ask thim thin? Of course if they've
got ye scared--"

Torrance knew the danger of demanding overtime even when necessitated
by their own devilish destruction. He knew the added risk since the
recent camp fight. But the suggestion of danger threw precaution to
the winds. Taking a nickel whistle from his pocket he stepped on the
trestle and blew a long blast.

The camp lay quiet and clear in the late afternoon sun, a long line of
sluggish smoke marking the cook-houses. A few minutes more and the
lazy evening life would filter out over the river bottom. At the
moment five hundred mouths were working as if their lives depended on
it, five hundred pairs of eyes were looking for the next plate to
devour.

First to appear in answer to the summons was Adrian Conrad, the one to
whom it was directed. He took in the situation at a glance, even
without Torrance's pointing arm, and made straightway for the
cook-houses. From the open door of one of them Koppy's head appeared,
and disappeared as quickly. He, too, understood.

As Conrad approached the nearest cook-house, Koppy emerged hastily on
his way to the next. Conrad changed his intentions and strolled on
after the underforeman. The two men met face to face as Koppy was
coming out. The foreman, inches shorter, laid a hand on the Pole's
shoulder. "I want you back here, Koppy." Without excitement, without
apparent annoyance, he thrust the Pole ahead into the building.

A hundred and fifty evil countenances glared at them from about the
long tables, some openly defiant, some only uncomfortable; all sullen
and prepared to resist under the influence of what Koppy had just
hurled at them in impassioned words.

"I'm afraid you've made it hard for yourself, Koppy," said the foreman.
"How long will it take them to finish?"

"Supper is _their_ time," returned the underforeman stiffly. He was
temporising; he scarcely knew how far it was wise to resist. "After
supper?" He shrugged his shoulders in simulated indifference.

Co