nrad ran undisturbed eye over the tables, noting the pie before each
diner.

"After supper is _my_ time to-night," he corrected quietly. "In ten
minutes they're wanted on the grade. There's a train to unload."

A rumble of protest cut him short. Koppy, the firm lines of the
foreman's face close to his shoulder, hesitated.

"Why for train not here in time?" he demanded. "We work ten hours.
Train don't come. Why?"

Conrad lifted his shoulders and let them drop. "Ask the boss
that--after. Now--the train has to be unloaded!"

The underforeman still hesitated. He had a curious respect for this
quiet little fellow who never argued, never swore, never retreated from
a stand once taken; and he was not quite certain how far he could trust
his men in open conflict with authority. But they were waiting for his
lead; his future with them was at stake.

"Perhaps they not work. Perhaps they say they work enough to-day." He
caught the hardening gleam in Conrad's eye. "Can I make them?"

"If you can't," said Conrad, "I can. Only there'll be sore heads, and
an empty bunk or two before I'm through. And yours will be one of
them. I've given the orders; are you going to make them obey or am
I--in your absence?"

A few of the men were on their feet now, mumbling, waving their soiled
fists. Certain mysterious movements were significant to Conrad. Like
a flash he had Koppy round the waist and was pressing a small automatic
into his stomach.

"I want them to sit down, Koppy," ordered the foreman, "every one of
them. You have till I count five. If I see a knife in the meantime,
time's up. One--two--"

The Pole swallowed--shouted something in a foreign tongue, and every
hand fell into the open, weaponless, every man sat down.

"You're a wise guy sometimes, Koppy," smiled Conrad. "Now you and I
remain here for five minutes, then fifty of them come with us--I won't
need more. Tell them that in the lingo. I'm already holding the
watch. . . . And, Koppy, hereafter you'll save yourself embarrassment
by remembering I'm foreman; these men take orders from me--through you.
I don't make a habit of showing a gun, but I prefer it to argument with
you. . . . All ready, march. You and I'll go last, Koppy."

But outside, Adrian Conrad passed carelessly along the line of sullen
men and led up the bank and through the woods to the standing train.
And not a knife showed.

Torrance and Murphy and the train crew watched th