Calumet K | Page 7

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?"
"Well, we haven't got such a lot of time. You see, it's November
already."
"What's the hurry all of a sudden? They didn't say nothing to me."
"I guess you haven't been crowding it very hard, have you?"
Peterson flushed.
"I've been working harder than I ever did before," he said. "If it wasn't
for the cribbing being held up like this, I'd 'a' had the cupola half done
before now. I've been playing in hard luck."
Bannon was silent for a moment, then he said:--
"How long do you suppose it would take to get the cribbing down from
Ledyard?"

"Not very long if it was rushed, I should think--a couple of days, or
maybe three. And they'll rush it all right when they can get the cars.
You see, it's only ten or eleven hours up there, passenger schedule; and
they could run it right in on the job over the Belt Line."
"It's the Belt Line that crosses the bridge, is it?"
"Yes."
Bannon spread his legs apart and drummed on the front of his chair.
"What's the other line?" he asked--"the four track line?"
"That's the C. & S. C. We don't have nothing to do with them."
They were both silent for a time. The flush had not left Peterson's face.
His eyes were roving over the carpet, lifting now and then to Bannon's
face with a quick glance.
"Guess I'll shave," said Bannon. "Do you get hot water here?"
"Why, I don't know," replied Peterson. "I generally use cold water. The
folks here ain't very obliging. Kind o' poor, you know."
Bannon was rummaging in his grip for his shaving kit.
"You never saw a razor like that, Pete," he said. "Just heft it once."
"Light, ain't it," said Peterson, taking it in his hand.
"You bet it's light. And look here"--he reached for it and drew it back
and forth over the palm of his hand--"that's the only stropping I ever
give it."
"Don't you have to hone it?"
"No, sir; it's never been touched to a stone or leather. You just get up
and try it once. Those whiskers of yours won't look any the worse for a
chopping."

Peterson laughed, and lathered his face, while Bannon put an edge on
the razor, testing it with a hair.
"Say, that's about the best yet," said Peterson, after the first stroke.
"You're right it is."
Bannon looked on for a few minutes, then he took a railroad
"Pathfinder" from his grip and rapidly turned the pages. Peterson saw it
in the mirror, and asked, between strokes:--
"What are you going to do?"
"Looking up trains."
While Peterson was splashing in the washbowl, Bannon took his turn at
the mirror.
"How's the Duluth job getting on?" asked Peterson, when Bannon had
finished, and was wiping his razor.
"All right--'most done. Just a little millwright work left, and some
cleaning up."
"There ain't any marine leg on the house, is there?"
"No."
"How big a house is it?"
"Eight hundred thousand bushels."
"That so? Ain't half as big as this one, is it?"
"Guess not. Built for the same people, though, Page & Company."
"They must be going in pretty heavy."
"They are. There's a good deal of talk about it. Some of the boys up at

the office say there's going to be fun with December wheat before they
get through with it. It's been going up pretty steadily since the end of
September--it was seventy-four and three-eighths Saturday in
Minneapolis. It ain't got up quite so high down here yet, but the boys
say there's going to be a lot of money in it for somebody."
"Be a kind of a good thing to get in on, eh?" said Peterson, cautiously.
"Maybe, for those that like to put money in wheat. I've got no money
for that sort of thing myself."
"Yes, of course," was Peterson's quick reply. "A fellow