ry the same load as before. You weren't any more than keeping up."

CHAPTER VIII

Five minutes after the noon whistle blew, on Saturday, every carpenter
and laborer knew that Bannon had "pulled a gun" on Reilly. Those who
heard it last heard more than that, for when the story had passed
through a few hands it was bigger and it took longer to tell. And every
man, during the afternoon, kept his eyes more closely on his work. Some
were angry, but these dropped from muttering into sullenness; the
majority were relieved, for a good workman is surer of himself under a
firm than under a slack hand; but all were cowed. And Bannon, when after
dinner he looked over the work, knew more about all of them and their
feelings, perhaps, than they knew themselves. He knew, too, that the
incident might in the long run make trouble. But trouble was likely in
any case, and it was better to meet it after he had established his
authority than while discipline was at loose ends.

But Hilda and Max were disappointed. They were in the habit of talking
over the incidents and problems of the day every night after supper. And
while Hilda, as Max used to say, had a mind of her own, she had fallen
into the habit of seeing things much as Max saw them. Max had from the
start admired, in his boyish way, Peterson's big muscles and his easy
good nature. He had been the first to catch the new spirit that Bannon
had got into the work, but it was more the outward activity that he
could understand and admire than Bannon's finer achievements in
organization. Like Hilda, he did not see the difference between dropping
a hammer down a bin and overloading a hoist. Bannon's distinction
between running risks in order to push the work and using caution in
minor matters was not recognized in their talks. And as Bannon was not
in the habit of giving his reasons, the misunderstanding grew. But more
than all Max felt, and in a way Hilda felt, too, that Peterson would
never have found it necessary to use a revolver; his fists would have
been enough for a dozen Reillys. Max did not tell Hilda about all the
conversations he and Peterson had had during the last week, for they
were confidential. Peterson had never been without a confidant, and
though he still shared a room with Bannon, he could not talk his mind
out with him. Max, who to Bannon was merely an unusually capable
lumber-checker, was to Peterson a friend and adviser. And though Max
tried to defend Banno