United States or North Korea ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
If not, telegraph Benton for more for whatever you want and send wagons back to the end of the rails. ... That's all for this time, Colohan." "All right, chief," replied the boss, and he saluted. Then he turned sneeringly to Blake and Coffee. "Did you hear them orders? I'm not takin' none from you again. They're from the chief." Colohan's manner or tone or the word chief amazed Coffee.
"Oh yes! Why we must have got it mixed," replied Coffee. "Thought they were to be built last. Wasn't that it, Blake?" "Sure," replied his colleague, but his tone lacked something. "Ah I see," said Neale, slowly. Then the big Irishman got up to extend a huge hand. "I'm Colohan," he boomed. Neale liked the bronzed, rough face, good-natured and intelligent.
Coffee sat his table under the fly, with Somers and another man. Colohan appeared on the moment, and there were excited comments from others near by. Coffee stood up. His face turned yellow. His lips snarled. "Coffee, here's your side partner," called Neale, and his voice was biting. "I've got you both dead to rights, you liars! ... You never even tried to work on my plans for Number Ten."
"Let's get down to notes," Neale went on, taking up his pencil. "You've been here three months?" "Yes." "With what force?" "Two hundred men on and off." "Who's the gang boss?" "Colohan. He's had some of the biggest contracts along the line." Neale was about to inquire the name of the contractor, but he refrained, governed by one of his peculiar impulses.
And he was aware of a shrewd pair of gray eyes taking his measure. Why these men seemed to want to look through Neale might have been natural enough, but somehow it struck him strangely. He had come there to help them, not to discharge them. Colohan, however, did not rouse Neale's antagonism as the others had done. "Colohan, are you sick of this job?" queried Neale, after greeting the boss.
"Yes an' no," replied Colohan. "You want to quit, then?" went on Neale, bluntly. The Irishman evidently took this curt query as a foreword of the coming dismissal. He looked shamed, crestfallen, at a loss to reply. "Don't misunderstand me," continued Neale. "I'm not going to fire you. But if you are sick of the job you can quit.
"Somers, tell this gang boss, Colohan, I want him." Neale left the tent. He had started to walk away when he heard Blake speak up in a fierce undertone. "Didn't I tell you? We're up against it!" And Coffee growled a reply Neale could not understand. But the tone of it was conclusive. These men had made a serious blunder and were blaming each other, hating each other for it.
But we'll soon get to working." Colohan strode away without another word. His brawny shoulders were expressive of a doubt. "Get me my plans for Number Ten construction," said Neale, pleasantly, for he meant to do his share at making the best of it. Blake brought the plans and spread them out on the table. "Will you both go over them with me?" inquired Neale.
Soon out here the rails will meet. ... Colohan, make it a matter of your preference. Will you stick?" "You bet!" he replied, heartily. A ruddy glow emanated from his face. Neale was quick to sense that this Irishman, like Casey, had an honest love for the railroad, whatever he might feel for the labor. "Get on the job, then," ordered Neale, cheerily. "We'll hustle while there's daylight.
"Troubles! ... Do you imagine I'm going to think of MYSELF?" retorted Neale. These fellows were beginning to get on his nerves. Coffee grew sullen, Blake shifted uneasily from foot to foot, Colohan beamed upon Neale. "Come on with them orders," he said.
Word Of The Day