minutes he came back, walking
deliberately toward the stairs. He looked at Peterson and Max, but
passed by without a second glance, and descended. Peterson stood looking
after him.

"Now, I'd like to know what Charlie meant by going home," he said.

Max had been thinking hard. Finally he said:--

"Say, Pete, we're blind."

"Why?"

"Did you think he was going home?"

Peterson looked at him, but did not reply.

"Because he ain't."

"Well, you heard what he said."

"What does that go for? He was winking when he said it. He wasn't going
to stand there and tell the laborers all about it, like we was trying to
do. I'll bet he ain't very far off."

"I ain't got a word to say," said Peterson. "If he wants to leave Grady
to me, I guess I can take care of him."

Max had come to the elevator for a short visit--he liked to watch the
work at night--but now he settled down to stay, keeping about the hopper
where he could see Grady if his head should appear at the top of the
stairs. Something told him that Bannon saw deeper into Grady's
man[oe]uvres than either Peterson or himself, and while he could not
understand, yet he was beginning to think that Grady would appear before
long, and that Bannon knew it.

Sure enough, only a few minutes had gone when Max turned back from a
glance at the marine tower and saw the little delegate standing on the
top step, looking about the distributing floor and up through the
girders overhead, with quick, keen eyes. Then Max understood what it all
meant: Grady had chosen a time when Bannon was least likely to be on the
job; and had sent the other man ahead to reconnoitre. It meant
mischief--Max could see that; and he felt a boy's nervousness at the
prospect of excitement. He stepped farther back into the shadow.

Grady was looking about for Peterson; when he saw his burly figure
outlined against a light at the farther end of the building, he walked
directly toward him, not pausing this time to talk to the laborers or to
look at them. Max, moving off a little to one side, followed, and
reached Peterson's side just as Grady, his hat pushed back on his head
and his feet apart, was beginning to talk.

"I had a little conversation with you the other day, Mr. Peterson. I
called to see you in the interests of the men, the men that are working
for you--working like galley slaves they are, every man of them. It's
shameful to a man that's seen how they've been treated by the nigger
drivers t