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He tried to be on all three shifts. "I even eat my meals from a nose bag," he told Uncle Denny sadly. "And what's a nose bag?" asked Uncle Denny. "A nose bag is the thing you tie on a horse for him to get his grub from. Also it's the long yellow bag the cook puts the night shift's lunch in. But I'd starve if 'twould keep the Boss on the job. I'd even drink one of Babe's cocktails."
"Anybody works better for a pat on the back than for a kick in the pants!" he thought indignantly. Philander stood about for an hour, and when he saw that Hanlon understood exactly what was expected of him and his crew when he saw Hanlon several times correct the sorters who had left too much rock in with the ores he turned to leave. "You'll hear the siren when the shift's over," he said.
The first shift's turn had come around once more in the natural order of things, and practically all of the men had been landed. Landover had refused to go out with either of the other shifts. He had stood his ground obstinately. Percival's ultimatum, sweeping like wildfire throughout the ship's company, brought nearly every one on board to the rails to see whether he would carry out his threat.
Pap's poorly again, and I'm obliged to put the late supper on the table for them thar gals the night shift's done eat and gone. I'll show her whar she's to sleep at, after while. I don't just rightly know whar Pap aimed to have her stay," she concluded hastily, as something boiled over on the stove. Johnnie set her bundle down in the corner of the kitchen.
Most of the figures in sight were men. There were very, very few women. The neon signs proclaimed that here one could buy beer, and that this was Fred's Place, and that was Sid's Steak Joint. Bowling. Pool. A store still open for this shift's trade sold fancy shirts and strictly practical work clothes and highly eccentric items of personal adornment. A movie house. A second. A third.
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