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Updated: May 5, 2025
"Shrill trumpet of God! I shrink at thy blast, That shakes the firm hills to their centre with dread, And have thought in that conflict earth's saddest and last That thy deep chilling sigh will awaken the dead!" Michael Macbride
He learned that Porter was in, and all seemed to be going well until he mentioned MacBride & Company, after which Mr. Porter became very elusive. Three or four attempts to pin him down, or at least to learn his whereabouts, proved unsuccessful, and at last Bannon, with wrath in his heart, started down town.
Colin MacBride, a streamer of pipe-smoke floating back over his shoulder, was peering into his luggage-compartment to check the stowage of his own cargo, while his twelve-year-old son, Malcolm, another black Highlander like his father, was helping Philip Cabot carry a big laundry hamper full of newspaper-wrapped pistols to his Cadillac. Pierre's mother, and the stylish-stout Mrs.
Rand stole a glance at his wrist-watch. It was nine five; he was wishing Stephen Gresham would put in an appearance. MacBride and Trehearne joined Pierre and the girls in showing him Gresham's collection; evidently they all knew it almost as well as their own. After a while, Irene Gresham ushered in Philip Cabot. He, too, was past middle age, with prematurely white hair and a thin, scholarly face.
"MacBride & Company are not, however, allowed to erect trestles or temporary scaffolding in the C. & S. C. right-of-way, nor to remove any property of the Company, such as fences, nor to do anything which may, in the opinion of the local authorities, hinder the movement of trains." Pete's face went blank. "A lot of good this darned permit does us then. That just means we can't build it."
"Got to!" exclaimed Pete. "I don't see it that way. We can't do it." "Can or can't, that don't interest MacBride a bit. He says it's got to be done and it has." "Why, he can't expect us to do it. He didn't say anything about January first to me. I didn't know it was a rush job. And then we played in hard luck, too, before you came. That cribbing being tied up, for instance.
C with feelings bordering on despair, and prays that God may end his sufferings before he reaches Cobourg. "Last night Mrs. Macbride sat up with Michael herself, and would not allow us to do the least thing for him.
He had folded the letter and addressed the envelope, when he paused and looked around. The typewritten letter to MacBride & Company lay at his elbow. He signed it before he spoke. "Miss Vogel, have you come across any letters or papers about an agreement with the C. & S. C.?" "No," she replied, "there is nothing here about the railroad."
"I'd look pretty, wouldn't I, going to old MacBride with my tail between my legs, telling him that the job was too much for me and I couldn't get it done on time. He'd look me over and say: 'Bannon, you're a liar. You've never had to lay down yet, and you don't now. Go back and get that job done before New Year's or I'll shoot you."
He was worn thin as an old knife-blade, he was just at the end of a piece of work that would have entitled any other man to a vacation; but MacBride made no apologies when he assigned him the new task "Go down and stop this fiddling around and get the house built. See that it's handling grain before you come away. If you can't do it, I'll come down and do it myself."
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