erson.

The night boss saw by this time that Grady meant business, that his speech
was preliminary to something more emphatic, and he knew that he ought to
stop it before the laborers should be demoralized.

"You can't do that here, Mister," said Max, over Peterson's shoulder,
indicating the cigar.

Grady still held the match, and looked impudently across the tip of his
cigar. Peterson took it up at once.

"You'll have to drop that," he said. "There's no smoking on this job."

The match had gone out, and Grady lighted another.

"So that's one of your rules, too?" he said, in the same loud voice. "It's
a wonder you let a man eat."

Peterson was growing angry. His voice rose as he talked.

"I ain't got time to talk to you," he said. "The insurance company says
there can't be no smoking here. If you want to know why, you'd better ask
them."

Grady blew out the match and returned the cigar to his pocket, with an air
of satisfaction that Peterson could not make out.

"That's all right, Mr. Peterson. I didn't come here to make trouble. I
come here as a representative of these men"--he waved again toward the
laborers--"and I say right here, that if you'd treated them right in the
first place, I wouldn't be here at all. I've wanted you to have a fair
show. I've put up with your mean tricks and threats and insults ever since
you begun--and why? Because I wouldn't delay you and hurt the work. It's
the industries of today, the elevators and railroads, and the work of
strong men like these that's the bulwark of America's greatness. But what
do I get in return, Mister Peterson? I come up here as a gentleman and
talk to you. I treat you as a gentleman. I overlook what you've showed
yourself to be. And how do you return it? By talking like the blackguard
you are--you knock an innocent cigar--"

"Your time's up!" said Pete, drawing a step nearer. "Come to business, or
clear out. That's all I've got to say to you."

"All right, Mister Peterson--all right. I'll put up with your insults. I
can afford to forget myself when I look about me at the heavier burdens
these men have to bear, day and night. Look at that--look at it, and then
try to talk to me."

He pointed back toward the stairs where a gang of eight laborers were
carrying a heavy timber across the shadowy floor.

"Well, what about it?" said Pete, with half-controlled rage.

"What about it! But never mind. I'm a busy man myself. I've got no more
time to waste on