"It's all cut and stacked by the siding, taking up half the yard. Want to
see it?"

Bannon smiled and nodded. "Here's a good cigar for you," he said, "and
you're a good fellow, but I think I'd like to see the cribbing."

"Oh, that's all right," laughed Dennis. "I'd have said the same thing if
it wasn't cut. Come out this way."

Bannon followed him out into the yard. "There it is," said the manager.

There was no need of pointing it out. It made a pile more than three
hundred feet long. It was nothing but rough hemlock, two inches thick, and
from two to ten inches wide, intended to be spiked together flatwise for
the walls of the bins, but its bulk was impressive. Bannon measured it
with his eye and whistled. "I wish that had been down on our job ten days
ago," he said, presently. "I'd be taking a vacation now if it had."

"Well, it was ready then. You can tell by the color."

"What's the matter with the G.&M. anyway? They don't seem to be hauling
very much. I noticed that last night when I came up. I'm no good at
sleeping on the train."

"Search me," said Dennis. "They've tied us up for these two weeks. I've
kicked for cars, and the old man--that's Sloan--he's kicked, but here we
are yet--can't move hand or foot."

"Who's Sloan?"