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Updated: June 8, 2025
Max walked around the table, pointing out his own, Pete's, James', and Bannon's seats, and those of the committee. The middle seat, next to Bannon's he passed over. "Hold on," said Pete, "you forgot something." Max grinned and drew back the middle chair. "This is for the guest of honor," he said, and looked at Hilda. Pete was looking at her, too, and James all but Bannon.
The men all worked better than before; each new move of Bannon's seemed to infuse more vigor and energy into the work; and the cupola and annex began rapidly, as Max said, "to look like something." Bannon was on hand all day, and frequently during a large part of the night. He had a way of appearing at any hour to look at the work and keep it moving.
I demand what's accorded to them by the Constitution of the United States and the Declaration of Independence, that says even a nigger has more rights than you've given to these men, the men that are putting money into your pocket, and Mr. Bannon's pocket, and the corporation's pocket, by the sweat of their brows. Look at them; will you look at them?"
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.
"It's something like that. Couldn't say exactly. Max takes care of the lumber." Bannon's brows came together. "You ought to know a little more about this yourself, Pete. You're the man that's building the house." "I guess I've been pushing it along as well as any one could," said Peterson, sullenly. "That's all right. I ain't hitting at you. I'm talking business, that's all.
He opened his bundle and unrolled a door mat, which he laid in front of the gate. Miss Vogel was smiling, but Bannon's face was serious. He cut a square piece from the wrapping paper, and sitting on the table, printed the placard: "Wipe your feet! Or put five cents in the box." Then he nailed both box and placard to the railing, and stood back to look at his work. "That will do it," he said.
He had heard that Peterson was somewhat disaffected to Bannon's authority, but had not expected him to make so frank an avowal of it. That was almost as much in his favor as the necessity for hurry. These, with the hoist accident to give a color of respectability to the operation, ought to make it simple enough.
In a fashion uncommonly clear-headed, even for him, he assembled all the facts bearing upon their predicament, his and Lucia Bannon's, jointly and individually, and dispassionately pondered them....
"Start her up, boys," he called, when the job was done, and, with the leg jolting under his hands as he climbed, he came back into the tower. At eight o'clock next morning, as Bannon and MacBride were standing in the superintendent's office, he came in and held out his hand. "She's full, Mr. Bannon. I congratulate you." "Full, eh?" said MacBride. Then he dropped his hand on Bannon's shoulder.
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.
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