heavily.

"Look what you're doin'," said a voice behind him. It was Thompson, the
lathe worker. "Can't you put that down easy?"

"No, I can't," replied Eugene angrily, his face tinged with a faint
blush from his extreme exertion. He was astonished and enraged to think
they should put him to doing work like this, especially since
Mr. Haverford had told him it would be easy. He suspected at once a plot
to drive him away. He would have added "these are too damn heavy for
me," but he restrained himself. He went down stairs wondering how he was
to get up the others. He fingered about the pole gingerly hoping that
the time taken this way would ease his pain and give him strength for
the next one. Finally he picked up another and staggered painfully to
the loft again. The foreman had his eye on him but said nothing. It
amused him a little to think Eugene was having such a hard time. It
wouldn't hurt him for a change, would do him good. "When he gets four
carried up let him go," he said to Thompson, however, feeling that he
had best lighten the situation a little. The latter watched Eugene out
of the tail of his eye noting the grimaces he made and the strain he was
undergoing, but he merely smiled. When four had been dropped on the
floor he said: "That'll do for the present," and Eugene, heaving a groan
of relief, went angrily away. In his nervous, fantastic, imaginative and
apprehensive frame of mind, he imagined he had been injured for life. He
feared he had strained a muscle or broken a blood vessel somewhere.

"Good heavens, I can't stand anything like this," he thought. "If the
work is going to be this hard I'll have to quit. I wonder what they mean
by treating me this way. I didn't come here to do this."

Visions of days and weeks of back-breaking toil stretched before him. It
would never do. He couldn't stand it. He saw his old search for work
coming back, and this frightened him in another direction. "I mustn't
give up so easily," he counseled himself in spite of his distress. "I
have to stick this out a little while anyhow." It seemed in this first
trying hour as though he were between the devil and the deep sea. He
went slowly down into the yard to find Jeffords and Duncan. They were
working at a car, one inside receiving lumber to be piled, the other
bringing it to him.

"Get down, Bill," said John, who was on the ground looking up at his
partner indifferently. "You get up there, new man. What's your name?"

"W