job to-day. Found it held up by
failure of cribbing from Ledyard. Will have at least enough to work
with by end of the week. We will get the house done according to
specifications.

Yours truly,
MACBRIDE & COMPANY.
CHARLES BANNON.

CHAPTER II

The five o'clock whistle had sounded, and Peterson sat on the bench
inside the office door, while Bannon washed his hands in the tin basin.
The twilight was already settling; within the shanty, whose dirty,
small-paned windows served only to indicate the lesser darkness without,
a wall lamp, set in a dull reflector, threw shadows into the corners.

"You're coming up with me, ain't you?" said Peterson. "I don't believe
you'll get much to eat. Supper's just the pickings from dinner."

"Well, the dinner was all right. But I wish you had a bigger bed. I
ain't slept for two nights."

"What was the matter?"

"I was on the sleeper last night; and I didn't get in from the Duluth
job till seven o'clock Saturday night, and Brown was after me before I'd
got my supper. Those fellows at the office wouldn't let a man sleep at
all if they could help it. Here I'd been working like a nigger 'most
five months on the Duluth house--and the last three weeks running night
shifts and Sundays; didn't stop to eat, half the time--and what does
Brown do but--'Well,' he says, 'how're you feeling, Charlie?'
'Middling,' said I. 'Are you up to a little job to-morrow?' 'What's
that?' I said. 'Seems to me if I've got to go down to the Calumet job
Sunday night I might have an hour or so at home.' 'Well, Charlie,' he
says, 'I'm mighty sorry, but you see we've been putting in a big rope
drive on a water-power plant over at Stillwater. We got the job on the
high bid,' he says, 'and we agreed to have it running on Monday morning.
It'll play the devil with us if we can't make good.' 'What's the
matter?' said I. 'Well,' he says, 'Murphy's had the job and has balled
himself up.'"

By this time the two men had their coats on, and were outside the
building.

"Let's see," said Bannon, "we go this way, don't we?"

"Yes."

There was still the light, flying flakes of snow, and the biting wind
that came sweeping down from the northwest. The two men crossed the
siding, and, picking their way between the freight cars on the Belt Line
tracks, followed the path that wound across the stretch of dusty meadow.

"Go ahead," said Peterson; "you was telling about Murphy."

"Well, t