in his hands.

Just as a man running for a car is the safest mark for a gamin's snowball,
so Calumet K, through being a rush job as well as a rich one, offered a
particularly advantageous field for Grady's endeavors. Men who were trying
to accomplish the impossible feat of completing, at any cost, the great
hulk on the river front before the first of January, would not be likely
to stop to quibble at paying the five thousand dollars or so that Grady,
who, as the business agent of his union was simply in masquerade, would
like to extort.

He had heard that Peterson was somewhat disaffected to Bannon's authority,
but had not expected him to make so frank an avowal of it. That was almost
as much in his favor as the necessity for hurry. These, with the hoist
accident to give a color of respectability to the operation, ought to make
it simple enough. He had wit enough to see that Bannon was a much harder
man to handle than Peterson, and that with Peterson restored to full
authority, the only element of uncertainty would be removed. And he
thought that if he could get Peterson to help him it might be possible to
secure Bannon's recall. If the scheme failed, he had still another shot in
his locker, but this one was worth a trial, anyway.

One afternoon in the next week he went around to Peterson's boarding-house
and sent up his card with as much ceremony as though the night boss had
been a railway president.

"I hope you can spare me half an hour, Mr. Peterson. There's a little
matter of business I'd like to talk over with you."

The word affected Peterson unpleasantly. That was a little farther than he
could go without a qualm. "Sure," he said uneasily, looking at his watch.

"I don't know as I should call it business, either," Grady went on. "When
you come right down to it, it's a matter of friendship, for surely it's no
business of mine. Maybe you think it's queer--I think it's queer myself,
that I should be coming 'round tendering my friendly services to a man
who's had his hands on my throat threatening my life. That ain't my way,
but somehow I like you, Mr. Peterson, and there's an end of it. And when I
like a man, I like him, too. How's the elevator? Everything going to
please you?"

"I guess it's going all right. It ain't--" Pete hesitated, and then gave
up the broken sentence. "It's all right," he repeated.

Grady smiled. "There's the good soldier. Won't talk against his general.
But, Mr. Peterson, let me ask