Calumet 'K'. Webster Henry Kitchell
they wanted anyway – while they talked a long procession of cribbing was creaking along by lantern light to Manistogee – finally convinced the manager that the time had come to yield as gracefully as possible.
"He means it this time," said Sloan, when he and Bannon were left alone at the Blake City hotel to talk things over.
"Yes, I think he does. If he don't, I'll come up here again and have a short session with him."
CHAPTER V
It was nearly five o'clock when Bannon appeared at the elevator on Thursday. He at once sought Peterson.
"Well, what luck did you have?" he asked. "Did you get my message?"
"Your message? Oh, sure. You said the cribbing was coming down by boat. I don't see how, though. Ledyard ain't on the lake."
"Well, it's coming just the same, two hundred thousand feet of it. What have you done about it?"
"Oh, we'll be ready for it, soon's it gets here."
They were standing at the north side of the elevator near the paling fence which bounded the C. & S. C. right of way. Bannon looked across the tracks to the wharf; the pile of timber was still there.
"Did you have any trouble with the railroad when you took your stuff across for the spouting house?" he asked.
"Not much of any. The section boss came around and talked a little, but we only opened the fence in one place, and that seemed to suit him."
Bannon was looking about, calculating with his eye the space that was available for the incoming lumber.
"How'd you manage that business, anyway?" asked Peterson.
"What business?"
"The cribbing. How'd you get it to the lake?"
"Oh, that was easy. I just carried it off."
"Yes, you did!"
"Look here, Pete, that timber hasn't got any business out there on the wharf. We've got to have that room for the cribbing."
"That's all right. The steamer won't get in much before to-morrow night, will it?"
"We aren't doing any banking on that. I've got a notion that the Pages aren't sending out any six-mile-an-hour scow to do their quick work. That timber's got to come over here to-night. May as well put it where the carpenters can get right at it. We'll be on the cupola before long, anyhow."
"But it's five o'clock already. There's the whistle."
Bannon waited while the long blast sounded through the crisp air. Then he said: —
"Offer the men double pay, and tell them that any man can go home that wants to, right now, but if they say they'll stay, they've got to see it through."
Already the laborers were hurrying toward the tool house in a long, irregular line. Peterson started toward the office, to give the word to the men before they could hand in their time checks.
"Mr. Bannon."
The foreman turned; Vogel was approaching.
"I wanted to see about that cribbing bill. How much of it's coming down by boat?"
"Two hundred thousand. You'd better help Peterson get that timber out of the way. We're holding the men."
"Yes, I've been waiting for directions about that. We can put a big gang on it, and snake it across in no time."
"You'll have to open up the fence in half a dozen places, and put on every man you've got. There's no use in making an all-night job of it."
"I'm afraid we'll have trouble with the railroad."
"No, we won't. If they kick, you send them to me. Are your arc lights in?"
"Yes, all but one or two. They were going to finish it to-day, but they ain't very spry about it."
"Tell you what you do, Max; you call them up and tell them we want a man to come out here and stay for a while. I may want to move the lights around a little. And, anyhow, they may as well clean up their job and have it done with."
He was starting back after the returning laborers when Max said: —
"Mr. Bannon."
"Hello?"
"I heard you speaking about a stenographer the other day."
"Yes – what about it? Haven't you got one yet?"
"No, but I know of one that could do the work first-rate."
"I want a good one – he's got to keep time besides doing the office work."
"Yes, I thought of that. I don't suppose she – "
"She? We can't have any shes on this job."
"Well, it's like this, Mr. Bannon; she's an A1 stenographer and bookkeeper; and as for keeping the time, why, I'm out on the job all day anyhow, and I reckon I could take care of it without cutting into my work."
Bannon looked quizzically down at him.
"You don't know what you're talking about," he said slowly. "Just look around at this gang of men – you know the likes of them as well as I do – and then talk to me about bringing a girl on the job." He his head. "I reckon it's some one you're interested in."
"Yes," said Max, "it's my sister."
Max evidently did not intend to be turned off. As he stood awaiting a reply – his broad, flat features, his long arms and bow legs with their huge hands and feet, his fringe of brick-red hair cropping out behind his cap, each contributing to the general appearance of utter homeliness – a faint smile came over Bannon's face. The half-formed thought was in his mind, "If she looks anything like that, I guess she's safe." He was silent for a moment, then he said abruptly: —
"When can she start?"
"Right away."
"All right. We'll try it for a day or so and see how it goes. Tell that boy in the office that he can charge his time up to Saturday night, but he needn't stay around any longer."
Max hurried away. Group after group of laborers, peavies or cant-hooks on shoulders, were moving slowly past him toward the wharf. It was already nearly dark, and the arc lights on the elevator structure, and on the spouting house, beyond the tracks, were flaring. He started toward the wharf, walking behind a score of the laborers.
From the east, over the flats and marshes through which the narrow, sluggish river wanders to Lake Michigan, came the hoarse whistle of a steamer. Bannon turned and looked. His view was blocked by some freight cars that were standing on the C. & S. C tracks at some distance to the east. He ran across the tracks and out on the wharf, climbing on the timber pile, where Peterson and his gang were rolling down the big sticks with cant-hooks. Not a quarter of a mile away was a big steamer, ploughing slowly up the river; the cough of her engines and the swash of the churning water at her bow and stern could be plainly heard. Peterson stopped work for a moment, and joined him.
"Well," Bannon said, "we're in for it now. I never thought they'd make such time as this."
"She can lay up here all night till morning, I guess."
Bannon was thinking hard.
"No," he finally said, "she can't. There ain't any use of wasting all day to-morrow unloading that cribbing and getting it across."
Peterson, too, was thinking; and his eye-brows were coming together in a puzzled scowl.
"Oh," he said, "you mean to do it to-night?"
"Yes, sir. We don't get any sleep till every piece of that cribbing is over at the annex, ready for business in the morning. Your sills are laid – there's nothing in the way of starting those bins right up. This ain't an all-night job if we hustle it."
The steamer was a big lake barge, with high bow and stern, and a long, low, cargo deck amidships that was piled squarely and high with yellow two-inch plank. Her crew had clearly been impressed with the need of hurry, for long before she could be worked into the wharf they had rigged the two hoists and got the donkey engines into running order. The captain stood by the rail