The five o'clock whistle had sounded, and Peterson sat on the bench inside
the office door, while Bannon washed his hands in the tin basin. The
twilight was already settling; within the shanty, whose dirty, small-paned
windows served only to indicate the lesser darkness without, a wall lamp,
set in a dull reflector, threw shadows into the corners.

"You're, coming up with me, ain't you?" said Peterson. "I don't believe
you'll get much to eat. Supper's just the pickings from dinner."

"Well, the dinner was all right. But I wish you had a bigger bed. I ain't
slept for two nights."

"What was the matter?"

"I was on the sleeper last night; and I didn't get in from the Duluth job
till seven o'clock Saturday night, and Brown was after me before I'd got
my supper. Those fellows at the office wouldn't let a man sleep at all if
they could help it. Here I'd been working like a nigger 'most five months
on the Duluth house--and the last three weeks running night shifts and
Sundays; didn't stop to eat, half the time--and what does Brown do but--
'Well,' he says, 'how're you feeling, Charlie?' 'Middling,' said I. 'Are
you up to a little job tomorrow?' 'What's that?' I said. 'Seems to me if
I've got to go down to the Calumet job Sunday night I might have an hour
or so at home.' 'Well, Charlie,' he says, 'I'm mighty sorry, but you see
we've been putting in a big rope drive on a water-power plant over at
Stillwater. We got the job on the high bid,' he says, 'and we agreed to
have it running on Monday morning. It'll play the devil with us if we
can't make good.' 'What's the matter?' said I. 'Well,' he says, 'Murphy's
had the job and has balled himself up.'"