The direct result of the episode with the carpenter Reilly was
insignificant. He did not attempt to make good his boast that he would be
back at work next day, and when he did appear, on Wednesday of the next
week, his bleared eyes and dilapidated air made the reason plain enough. A
business agent of his union was with him; Bannon found them in the office.
He nodded to the delegate. "Sit down," he said. Then he turned to Reilly.
"I don't ask you to do the same. You're not wanted on the premises. I told
you once before that I was through talking."
Reilly started to reply, but his companion checked him. "That's all
right," he said. "I know your side of it. Wait for me up by the car line."
When Reilly had gone Bannon repeated his invitation to sit down.
"You probably know why I've come," the delegate began. "Mr. Reilly has
charged you with treating him unjustly and with drawing a revolver on him.
Of course, in a case like this, we try to get at both sides before we take
any action. Would you give me your account of it?"
Bannon told in twenty words just how it had happened. The agent said
cautiously: "Reilly told another story."
"I suppose so. Now, I don't ask you to take my word against his. If you'd
like to investigate the business, I'll give you all the opportunity you
want."
"If we find that he did drop the hammer by accident, would you be willing
to take him back?"
Bannon smiled. "There's no use in my telling you what I'll do till you
tell me what you want me to do, is there?"
Bannon held out his hand when the man rose to go.
"Any time you think there's something wrong out here, or anything you
don't understand, come out and we'll talk it over. I treat a man as well
as I can, if he's square with me."
He walked to the door with the agent and closed it after him. As he turned
back to the draughting table, he found Hilda's eyes on him. "They're very
clean chaps, mostly, those walking delegates," he said. "If you treat 'em
half as well as you'd treat a yellow dog, they're likely to be very
reasonable. If one of 'em does happen to be a rascal, though, he's meaner
to handle than frozen dynamite. I expect to be white-headed before I'm
through with that man Grady."
"Is he a rascal?" she asked.
"He's as bad as you find 'em. Even if he'd been handled right--"
Bannon broke off abruptly and began turning over the blue prints. "Suppose
I'd better see how this next story looks," he said. Hilda had heard how
Pete had dealt with Grady at their first meeting, and she could complete
the broken sentence.
Bannon never heard whether the agent from the carpenters' union had looked
further into Reilly's case, but he was not asked to take him back on the
pay roll. But that was not the end of the incident. Coming out on the
distributing floor just before noon on Thursday, he found Grady in the act
of delivering an impassioned oration to the group of laborers about the
hoist. Before Grady saw him, Bannon had come near enough to hear something
about being "driven at the point of a pistol."
The speech came suddenly to an end when Grady, following the glances of
his auditors, turned and saw who was coming. Bannon noted with
satisfaction the scared look of appeal which he turned, for a second,
toward the men. It was good to know that Grady was something of a coward.
Bannon nodded to him pleasantly enough. "How are you, Grady?" he said.
Seeing that he was in no danger, the delegate threw back his shoulders,
held up his head, and, frowning in an important manner, he returned
Bannon's greeting with the scantest civility.
Bannon walked up and stood beside him. "If you can spare the time," he
said politely, "I'd like to see you at the office for a while."
Convinced now that Bannon was doing everything in his power to conciliate
him, Grady grew more important. "Very well," he said; "when I've got
through up here, ye can see me if ye like."
"All right," said Bannon, patiently; "no hurry."
During the full torrent of Grady's eloquence the work had not actually
been interrupted. The big boom bearing its load of timber swept in over
the distributing floor with unbroken regularity; but the men had worked
with only half their minds and had given as close attention as they dared
to the delegate's fervid utterances. But from the moment Bannon appeared
there had been a marked change in the attitude of the little audience;
they steered the hoist and canted the timbers about with a sudden
enthusiasm which made Bannon smile a little as he stood watching them.
Grady could not pump up a word to say. He cleared his throat loudly once
or twice, but the men ignored him utterly. He kept casting his shifty
little sidewise glances at the boss, wondering why he didn't go away, but
Bannon continued to stand there, giving an occasional direction, and
watching the progress of the work with much satisfaction. The little
delegate shifted his weight from one foot to the other and cleared his
throat again. Then he saw that two or three of the men were grinning. That
was too much.
"Well, I'll go with you," he snapped.
Bannon could not be sure how much of an impression Grady's big words and
his ridiculous assumption of importance had made upon the men, but he
determined to counteract it as thoroughly as possible, then and there. It
was a sort of gallery play that he had decided on, but he felt sure it
would prove effective.
Grady turned to go down as he had come up, by the ladders, but Bannon
caught him by the shoulder, saying with a laugh: "Oh, don't waste your
time walking. Take the elevator." His tone was friendly but his grip was
like a man-trap, and he was propelling Grady straight toward the edge of
the building. Four big timbers had just come up and Bannon caught the
released rope as it came trailing by. "Here," he said; "put your foot in
the hook and hang on, and you'll come down in no time."
Grady laughed nervously. "No you don't. I suppose you'd be glad to get rid
of me that way. You don't come that on me."
The men were watching with interest; Bannon raised his voice a little.
"All right," he said, thrusting his foot into the great hook, "if you feel
that way about it. We'll have a regular passenger elevator in here by and
by, with an electric bell and sliding door, for the capitalist crowd that
are going to own the place. But we workingmen get along all right on this.
Swing off, boys."
He waited for Grady down below. It mattered very little to him now whether
the walking delegate chose to follow him down the hoist or to walk down on
the ladders, for every one had seen that Grady was afraid. Bannon had seen
all the men grinning broadly as he began his descent, and that was all he
wanted.
Evidently Grady's fear of the rope was less than his dread of the ridicule
of the men, for Bannon saw him preparing to come down after the next load.
He took a long time getting ready, but at last they started him. He was
the color of a handful of waste when he reached the ground, and he
staggered as he walked with Bannon over to the office. He dropped into a
chair and rubbed his forehead with his coat-sleeve.
"Well," said Bannon, "do you like the look of things? I hope you didn't
find anything out of the way?"
"Do you dare ask me that?" Grady began. His voice was weak at first, but
as his giddiness passed away it arose again to its own inimitable
oratorical level. "Do you dare pretend that you are treating these men
right? Who gave you the right to decide that this man shall live and this
man shall die, and that this poor fellow who asks no more than to be
allowed to earn his honest living with his honest sweat shall be stricken
down with two broken ribs?"
"I don't know," said Bannon. "You're speaking of the hoist accident, I
suppose. Well, go and ask that man if he has any complaint to make. If he
has, come and let me know about it."
"They call this a free country, and yet you oppressors can compel men to
risk their lives--"
"Have you any changes to suggest in the way that hoist is rigged?" Bannon
cut in quietly. "You've been inspecting it. What did you think was unsafe
about it?"
Grady was getting ready for his next outburst, but Bannon prevented him.
"There ain't many jobs, if you leave out tacking down carpets, where a man
don't risk his life more or less. MacBride don't compel men to risk their
lives; he pays 'em for doing it, and you can bet he's done it himself. We
don't like it, but it's necessary. Now, if you saw men out there taking
risks that you think are unnecessary, why, say so, and we'll talk it
over."
"There's another thing you've got to answer for, Mr. Bannon. These are
free men that are devoting their honest labor to you. You may think you're
a slave driver, but you aren't. You may flourish your revolver in the
faces of slaves, but free American citizens will resent it--"
"Mr. Grady, the man I drew a gun on was a carpenter. His own union is
looking after him. He had thrown a hammer down into a bin where some of
your laborers were at work, so I acted in their defence."
Grady stood up. "I come here to give you warning today, Mr. Bannon. There
is a watchful eye on you. The next time I come it will not be to warn, but
to act. That's all I've got to say to you now."
Bannon, too, was on his feet. "Mr. Grady, we try to be fair to our men.
It's your business to see that we are fair, so we ought to get on all
right together. After this, if the men lodge any complaint with you, come
to me; don't go out on the job and make speeches. If you're looking for
fair play, you'll get it. If you're looking for trouble, you'll get it.
Good-morning."
The new regime in operation at the elevator was more of a hardship to
Peterson than to any one else, because it compelled him to be much alone.
Not only was he quite cut off from the society of Max and Hilda, but it
happened that the two or three under-foremen whom he liked best were on
the day shift. The night's work with none of those pleasant little
momentary interruptions that used to occur in the daytime was mere
unrelieved drudgery, but the afternoons, when he had given up trying to
sleep any longer, were tedious enough to make him long for six o'clock.
Naturally, his disposition was easy and generous, but he had never been in
the habit of thinking much, and thinking, especially as it led to
brooding, was not good for him. From the first, of course, he had been
hurt that the office should have thought it necessary to send Bannon to
supersede him, but so long as he had plenty to do and was in Bannon's
company every hour of the day, he had not taken time to think about it
much. But now he thought of little else, and as time went on he succeeded
in twisting nearly everything the new boss had said or done to fit his
theory that Bannon was jealous of him and was trying to take from him the
credit which rightfully belonged to him. And Bannon had put him in charge
of the night shift, so Peterson came to think, simply because he had seen
that Hilda was beginning to like him.
About four o'clock one afternoon, not many days after Grady's talk with
Bannon, Peterson sat on the steps of his boarding-house, trying to make up
his mind what to do, and wishing it were six o'clock. He wanted to stroll
down to the job to have a chat with his friends, but he had somewhat
childishly decided he wasn't wanted there while Miss Vogel was in the
office, so he sat still and whittled, and took another view of his
grievances. Glancing up, he saw Grady, the walking delegate, coming along
the sidewalk. Now that the responsibility of the elevator was off his
shoulders he no longer cherished any particular animosity toward the
little Irishman, but he remembered their last encounter and wondered
whether he should speak to him or not.
But Grady solved his doubt by calling out cheerfully to know how he was
and turning in toward the steps. "I suppose I ought to lick you after
what's passed between us," he added with a broad smile, "but if you're
willing we'll call it bygones."
"Sure," said Peterson.
"It's fine seasonable weather we're having, and just the thing for you on
the elevator. It's coming right along."
"First-rate."
"It's as interesting a bit of work as I ever saw. I was there the other
day looking at it. And, by the way, I had a long talk with Mr. Bannon.
He's a fine man."
Grady had seated himself on the step below Peterson. Now for the first
time he looked at him.
"He's a good hustler," said Peterson.
"Well, that's what passes for a fine man, these days, though mistakes are
sometimes made that way. But how does it happen that you're not down there
superintending? I hope some carpenter hasn't taken it into his head to
fire the boss."
"I'm not boss there any longer. The office sent Bannon down to take it
over my head."
"You don't tell me that? It's a pity." Grady was shaking his head
solemnly. "It's a pity. The men like you first-rate, Mr. Peterson. I'm not
saying they don't like anybody else, but they like you. But people in an
office a thousand miles away can't know everything, and that's a fact. And
so he laid you off."
"Oh, no, I ain't quite laid off--yet. He's put me in charge of the night
shift."
"So you're working nights, then? It seemed to me you was working fast
enough in the daytime to satisfy anybody. But I suppose some rich man is
in a hurry for it and you must do your best to accommodate him."
"You bet, he's in a hurry for it. He won't listen to reason at all. Says
the bins have got to be chock full of grain before January first, no
matter what happens to us. He don't care how much it costs, either."
"I must be going along," said Grady, getting to his feet. "That man must
be in a hurry. January first! That's quick work, and he don't care how
much it costs him. Oh, these rich devils! They're hustlers, too, Mr.
Peterson. Well, good-night to you."
Peterson saw Bannon twice every day,--for a half hour at night when he
took charge of the job, and for another half hour in the morning when he
relinquished it. That was all except when they chanced to meet during
Bannon's irregular nightly wanderings about the elevator. As the days had
gone by these conversations had been confined more and more rigidly to
necessary business, and though this result was Peterson's own fringing
about, still he charged it up as another of his grievances against Bannon.
When, about an hour after his conversation with Grady, he started down to
the elevator to take command, he knew he ought to tell Bannon of his
conversation with Grady, and he fully intended doing so. But his
determination oozed away as he neared the office, and when he finally saw
Bannon he decided to say nothing about it whatever. He decided thus partly
because he wished to make his conversation with Bannon as short as
possible, partly because he had not made up his mind what significance, if
any, the incident had, and (more than either of these reasons) because
ever since Grady had repeated the phrase: "He don't care what it costs
him," Peterson had been uneasily aware that he had talked too much.