alt and Lumber
Company can have those cars that are on the siding at Victory."

"All right," said the superintendent, rising. At the door he turned back
to ask, "When was it you saw them?"

Bannon decided to chance it. "Yesterday morning," he said.

The superintendent returned presently, and, turning to his desk, resumed
his work. A few minutes later the telegraph operator came in and told him
that the cars at Victory had been loaded with iron truss work the night
before, and had gone off down the State.

"Just too late, wasn't I?" said Bannon. "That's hard luck." He went to the
window and, staring out into the yards, began tapping idly with his pencil
on the glass. The office door was open, and when he paused he heard the
telegraph instrument just without, clicking out a message.

"Anything else I can do for you?" asked the superintendent. His good humor
was returning at the sight of his visitor's perplexity.

"I wish you'd just wire the general manager once more and ask him if he
can't possibly let us have those cars."

"All right," said the other, cheerfully. He nodded to the operator. "For
the Ledyard Salt and Lumber Company," he said.

Bannon dropped into a chair, stretched himself, and yawned. "I'm sleepy,"
he said; "haven't had any sleep in three weeks. Lost thirty-two pounds. If
you fellows had only got that cribbing down on time, I'd be having a
vacation--"

Another yawn interrupted him. The telegraph receiver had begun giving out
the general manager's answer.

Tell-Ledyard-we-hope-to-have-cars-in-a-few-days-

The superintendent looked at Bannon, expecting him to finish his sentence,
but he only yawned again.

obey-previous-instructions.--Do-not-give-Ledyard-cars-in-any-case-

Bannon's eyes were half closed, but the superintendent thought he was
turning a little toward the open doorway.

"Do you feel cold?" he asked. "I'll shut the door."

He rose quickly and started toward it, but Bannon was there before him. He
hesitated, his hand on the knob.

"Why don't you shut it?" snapped the superintendent.

"I think I'll--I think I'll send a telegram."

"Here's a blank, in here. Come in." But Bannon had slipped out and was
standing beside the operator's table. From the doorway the superintendent
saw him biting his pencil and frowning over a bit of paper. The general
manager's message was still coming in.

We-don't-help-put-up-any-grain-elevator-in-Chicago-these-days.

As the last click sounded,