hat down at Stillwater last night. I reckon the office ought to stand for
it.' He turned around and looked queer, and then he grinned. 'So you went
over?' he said. 'I reckon I did,' said I. 'What kind of a hat did you
lose?' he asked, and he grinned again. 'I guess it was a silk one, wasn't
it?' 'Yes,' said I, 'a silk hat--something about eight dollars.'"

"Did he mean he'd give you a silk hat?" asked Peterson.

"Couldn't say."

They were sitting in the ten-by-twelve room that Peterson rented for a
dollar a week. Bannon had the one chair, and was sitting tipped back
against the washstand. Peterson sat on the bed. Bannon had thrown his
overcoat over the foot of the bed, and had dropped his bag on the floor by
the window.

"Ain't it time to eat, Pete?" he said.

"Yes, there's the bell."

The significance of Bannon's arrival, and the fact that he was planning to
stay, was slow in coming to Peterson. After supper, when they had returned
to the room, his manner showed constraint. Finally he said:--

"Is there any fuss up at the office?"

"What about?"

"Why--do they want to rush the job or something?"