he ten-by-twelve room that Peterson rented for a
dollar a week. Bannon had the one chair, and was sitting tipped back
against the washstand. Peterson sat on the bed. Bannon had thrown his
overcoat over the foot of the bed, and had dropped his bag on the floor
by the window.

"Ain't it time to eat, Pete?" he said.

"Yes, there's the bell."

The significance of Bannon's arrival, and the fact that he was planning
to stay, was slow in coming to Peterson. After supper, when they had
returned to the room, his manner showed constraint. Finally he said:--

"Is there any fuss up at the office?"

"What about?"

"Why--do they want to rush the job or something?"

"Well, we haven't got such a lot of time. You see, it's November
already."

"What's the hurry all of a sudden? They didn't say nothing to me."

"I guess you haven't been crowding it very hard, have you?"

Peterson flushed.

"I've been working harder than I ever did before," he said. "If it
wasn't for the cribbing being held up like this, I'd 'a' had the cupola
half done before now. I've been playing in hard luck."

Bannon was silent for a moment, then he said:--

"How long do you suppose it would take to get the cribbing down from
Ledyard?"

"Not very long if it was rushed, I should think--a couple of days, or
maybe three. And they'll rush it all right when they can get the cars.
You see, it's only ten or eleven hours up there, passenger schedule; and
they could run it right in on the job over the Belt Line."

"It's the Belt Line that crosses the bridge, is it?"

"Yes."

Bannon spread his legs apart and drummed on the front of his chair.

"What's the other line?" he asked--"the four track line?"

"That's the C. & S. C. We don't have nothing to do with them."

They were both silent for a time. The flush had not left Peterson's
face. His eyes were roving over the carpet, lifting now and then to
Bannon's face with a quick glance.

"Guess I'll shave," said Bannon. "Do you get hot water here?"

"Why, I don't know," replied Peterson. "I generally use cold water. The
folks here ain't very obliging. Kind o' poor, you know."

Bannon was rummaging in his grip for his shaving kit.

"You never saw a razor like that, Pete," he said. "Just heft it once."

"Light, ain't it," said Peterson, taking it in his hand.

"You bet it's light. And look here"--he reached for it and drew it back
and forth over the palm of his hand--"that's the only stropping I ever
g