hen he turned so that the
light shone full in Sloan's face. "Good evening, Mr. Sloan," he said.
"You'll excuse me, but is what this gentleman tells me all straight?"

"Guess it is," Sloan smiled. "I'd bank on him myself."

The farmer nodded with satisfaction. "All right then, Mr.
What's-your-name. I'll have it done for you."

Sloan asked no questions until they had forded the stream and were back
on the road. Then he inquired, "What's he going to do?"

"Mend the bridge. I told him it had to be done to-night. Said he
couldn't. Hadn't any lumber. Couldn't think of it I told him to pull
down the lee side of his house if necessary; said you'd give him the
lumber to build an annex on it."

"What!"

"Oh, it's all right. Send the bill to MacBride. I knew your name would
go down and mine wouldn't."

The delay had proved costly, and it was half-past seven before they
reached the Manistogee hotel.

"Now," said Bannon, "we'll have time to rub down the mare and feed her
before I'm ready to go back."

Sloan stared at him for a moment in unfeigned amazement. Then slowly he
shook his head. "All right, I'm no quitter. But I will say that I'm glad
you ain't coming to Ledyard to live."

Bannon left the supper table before Sloan had finished, and was gone
nearly an hour. "It's all fixed up," he said when he returned. "I've
cinched the wharf."

They started back as they had come, in silence, Bannon crowding as low
as possible in his ulster, dozing. But he roused when the mare, of her
own accord, left the road at the detour for the ford.

"You don't need to do that," he said. "The bridge is fixed." So they
drove straight across, the mare feeling her way cautiously over the
new-laid planks.

The clouds were thinning, so that there was a little light, and Bannon
leaned forward and looked about.

"How did you get hold of the message from the general manager?" asked
Sloan abruptly.

"Heard it. I can read Morse signals like print. Used to work for the
Grand Trunk."

"What doing?"

"Boss of a wrecking gang." Bannon paused. Presently he went on.

"Yes, there was two years when I slept with my boots on. Didn't know a
quiet minute. Never could tell what I was going to get up against. I
never saw two wrecks that were anything alike. There was a junction
about fifty miles down the road where they used to have collisions
regular; but they were all different. I couldn't figure out what I was
going to do till I was on the ground,