d by, and big rotary ploughs had bitten a way for it across the
drifted prairies. Now it was here, and Charlie Bannon was keeping it
waiting.

He stood there, looking, only a moment; then before the carpenter's
footsteps were well out of hearing, he followed him down the stairway to
the belt gallery. Before he had passed half its length you could have seen
the difference. In the next two hours every man on the elevator saw him,
learned a quicker way to splice a rope or align a shaft, and heard, before
the boss went away, some word of commendation that set his hands to
working the faster, and made the work seem easy. The work had gone on
without interruption for weeks, and never slowly, but there were times
when it went with a lilt and a laugh; when laborers heaved at a hoisting
tackle with a Yo-ho, like privateersmen who have just sighted a sail;
when, with all they could do, results came too slowly, and the hours flew
too fast. And so it was that Christmas night; Charlie Bannon was back on
the job.

About ten o'clock he encountered Pete, bearing off to the shanty a quart
bottle of cold coffee and a dozen big, thick sandwiches. "Come on,
Charlie," he called. "Max is coming, too; but I guess we've got enough to
spare you a little."

So the three of them sat down to supper around the draughting-table, and
between bites Bannon talked, a little about everything, but principally,
and with much corroborative detail--for the story seemed to strain even
Pete's easy credulity--of how, up at Yawger, he had been run on the
independent ticket for Superintendent of the Sunday School, and had been
barely defeated by two votes.

When the sandwiches were put away, and all but three drinks of the coffee,
Bannon held the bottle high in the air. "Here's to the house!" he said.
"We'll have wheat in her tomorrow night!"

They drank the toast standing; then, as if ashamed of such a sentimental
demonstration, they filed sheepishly out of the office. They walked fifty
paces in silence. Then Pete checked suddenly and turned to Bannon. "Hold
on, Charlie, where are you going?"

"Going to look over those 'cross-the-house conveyor drives down cellar."

"No, you ain't either. You're going to bed."

Bannon only laughed and started on toward the elevator.

"How long is it since you had any sleep?" Pete demanded.

"I don't know. Guess I must have slept part of the time while we was
putting up that gallery. I don't remember much about it."