ut up that
fence again, and the quicker the better. Bannon tried to tell him that the
railroad had consented to their putting in the gallery, that they were
well within their rights, that he, the section boss, had better be careful
not to exceed his instructions. But the section boss had spoken his whole
mind already. He was not of the sort that talk just for the pleasure of
hearing their own voices, and he had categorical instructions that made
parley unnecessary. He would not even tell from whom he had the orders. So
the posts were lugged out of the way and the fence was put up and the men
scattered out to their former work again, grinning a little over Bannon's
discomfiture.

Bannon's next move was to write to Minneapolis for information and
instructions, but MacBride, who seemed to have all the information there
was, happened to be in Duluth, and Brown's instructions were consequently
foggy. So, after waiting a few days for something more definite, Bannon
disappeared one afternoon and was gone more than an hour. When he strode
into the office again, keen and springy as though his work had just begun,
Hilda looked up and smiled a little. Pete was tilted back in the chair
staring glumly out of the window. He did not turn until Bannon slapped him
jovially on the shoulders and told him to cheer up.

"Those railroad chaps are laying for us, sure enough," he said. "I've been
talking to MacBride himself--over at the telephone exchange; he ain't in
town--and he said that Porter--he's the vice-president of the C. & S. C.--
Porter told him, when he was in Chicago, that they wouldn't object at all
to our building the gallery over their tracks. But that's all we've got to
go by. Not a word on paper. Oh, they mean to give us a picnic, and no
mistake!"

With that, Bannon called up the general offices of the C. & S. C. and
asked for Mr. Porter. There was some little delay in getting the
connection, and then three or four minutes of fencing while a young man at
the other end of the line tried to satisfy himself that Bannon had the
right to ask for Mr. Porter, let alone to talk with him, and Bannon,
steadily ignoring his questions, continued blandly requesting him to call
Mr. Porter to the telephone. Hilda was listening with interest, for
Bannon's manner was different from anything she had ever seen in him
before. It lacked nothing of his customary assurance, but its breeziness
gave place to the most studied restraint; he might ha