you ain't coming to Ledyard to live."

Bannon left the supper table before Sloan had finished, and was gone
nearly an hour. "It's all fixed up," he said when he returned. "I've
cinched the wharf."

They started back as they had come, in silence, Bannon crowding as low as
possible in his ulster, dozing. But he roused when the mare, of her own
accord, left the road at the detour for the ford.

"You don't need to do that," he said. "The bridge is fixed." So they drove
straight across, the mare feeling her way cautiously over the new-laid
planks.

The clouds were thinning, so that there was a little light, and Bannon
leaned forward and looked about.

"How did you get hold of the message from the general manager?" asked
Sloan abruptly.

"Heard it. I can read Morse signals like print. Used to work for the Grand
Trunk."

"What doing?"

"Boss of a wrecking gang." Bannon paused. Presently he went on.

"Yes, there was two years when I slept with my boots on. Didn't know a
quiet minute. Never could tell what I was going to get up against. I never
saw two wrecks that were anything alike. There was a junction about fifty