harf. Faintly
over this sound came the shouting of men and the tramp and shuffle of
feet. And at intervals a train would rumble in the distance, slowly
coming nearer, until with a roar that swallowed all the other noises it
was past. The arc lamps glowed and buzzed over the heads of the
sweating, grunting men, as they came along the path, gang after gang,
lifting an end of a heavy stick to the level of the steadily rising
pile, and sliding it home.

Bannon knew from long experience how to pile the different sizes so that
each would be ready at the hands of the carpenters when the morning
whistle should blow. He was all about the work, giving a hand here, an
order there, always good-humored, though brusque, and always inspiring
the men with the sight of his own activity.

Toward the middle of the evening Vogel came up from the wharf with a
question. As he was about to return, Bannon, who had been turning over
in his mind the incident of the section boss, said:--

"Wait a minute, Max. What about this railroad business--have they
bothered you much before now?"

"Not very much, only in little ways. I guess it's just this section boss
that does it on his own hook. He's a sort of a fool, you know, and he's
got it into his head that we're trying to do him some way."

Bannon put his hands into his pockets, and studied the checkered pattern
in the ground shadow of the nearest arc lamp. Then he slowly shook his
head.

"No," he said, "that ain't it. He's too big a fool to do much on his own
hook. He's acting on orders of some sort, and that's just what I don't
understand. As a general thing a railroad's mighty white to an elevator.
Come to think of it, they said something about it up at the office,"--he
was apparently speaking to himself, and Max quietly waited,--"Brown said
something about the C. & S. C. having got in the way a little down here,
but I didn't think much about it at the time."

"What could they do?" Max asked.

"A lot, if they wanted to. But that ain't what's bothering me. They
haven't any connection with the G. & M., have they?"

"No"--Max shook his head--"no, not that I know of."

"Well, it's funny, that's all. The man behind those orders that the
section boss talks about is the general manager; and it's my notion that
we're likely to hear from him again. I'll tell you what it is.
Somebody--I don't know who, but somebody--is mighty eager to keep this
house from being finished by the first of January.