Tom Grogan | Page 9

can
handle any two of 'em, an' ye too, an' ye know it." Her cheeks were
aflame. She crowded Lathers so closely his slinking figure hugged the
fence.
By this time the gang had abandoned the buoy, and were standing
aghast, watching the fury of the Amazon.
"Now, see here, don't make a muss; the commandant'll be down here in
a minute."
"Let him come; he's the one I want to see. If he knew he had a man in
his pay that would do as dirty a trick to a woman as ye've done to me,
his name would be Dinnis. I'll see him meself this very day, and"--
Here Lathers interrupted with an angry gesture.
"Don't ye lift yer arm at me," she blazes out, "or I'll break it at the
wrist!"
Lathers's hand dropped. All the color was out of his face, his lip
quivering.
"Whoever said I said a word against you, Mrs. Grogan, is a--liar." It
was the last resort of a cowardly nature.
"Stop lyin' to me, Pete Lathers! If there's anythin' in this world I hate,
it's a liar. Ye said it, and ye know ye said it. Ye want that drunken

loafer Dan McGaw to get me work. Ye've been at it all summer, an' ye
think I haven't watched ye; but I have. And ye say I don't pay full
wages, and have got a lot of boys to do men's work, an' oughter be over
me tubs. Now let me tell ye"--Lathers shrank back, cowering before
her--"if ever I hear ye openin' yer head about me, or me teams, or me
work, I'll make ye swallow every tooth in yer head. Send down
somethin' with a mustache, will I? There's not a man in the yard that's a
match for me, an' ye know it. Let one of 'em try that."
Her uplifted fist, tight-clenched, shot past Lathers's ear. A quick blow,
a plank knocked clear of its fastenings, and a flood of daylight broke in
behind Lathers's head!
"Now, the next time I come, Pete Lathers," she said firmly, "I'll miss
the plank and take yer face."
Then she turned, and stalked out of the yard.

III
SERGEANT DUFFY'S LITTLE GAME
The bad weather so long expected finally arrived. An afternoon of soft,
warm autumn skies, aglow with the radiance of the setting sun, and
brilliant in violet and gold, had been followed by a cold, gray morning.
Of a sudden a cloud the size of a hand had mounted clear of the horizon,
and called together its fellows. An unseen herald in the east blew a
blast, and winds and sea awoke.
By nine o'clock a gale was blowing. By ten Babcock's men were
bracing the outer sheathing of the coffer-dam, strengthening the
derrick-guys, tightening the anchor-lines, and clearing the
working-platforms of sand, cement, and other damageable property.
The course-masonry, fortunately, was above the water-line, but the
coping was still unset and the rubble backing of much of the wall
unfinished. Two weeks of constant work were necessary before that
part of the structure contained in the first section of the contract would

be entirely safe for the coming winter. Babcock doubled his gangs, and
utilized every hour of low water to the utmost, even when the men
stood waist-deep. It was his only hope for completing the first section
that season. After that would come the cold, freezing the mortar, and
ending everything.
Tom Grogan performed wonders. Not only did she work her teams far
into the night, but during all this bad weather she stood throughout the
day on the unprotected dock, a man's sou'wester covering her head, a
rubber waterproof reaching to her feet. She directed every boat-load
herself, and rushed the materials to the shovelers, who stood soaking
wet in the driving rain.
Lathers avoided her; so did McGaw. Everybody else watched her in
admiration. Even the commandant, a bluff, gray-bearded naval
officer,--a hero of Hampton Roads and Memphis,--passed her on his
morning inspection with a kindly look in his face and an aside to
Babcock: "Hire some more like her. She is worth a dozen men."
Not until the final cargo required for the completion of the wall had
been dumped on the platforms did she relax her vigilance. Then she
shook the water from her oilskins and started for home. During all
these hours of constant strain there was no outbreak of bravado, no
spell of ill humor. She made no boasts or promises. With a certain
buoyant pluck she stood by the derricks day after day, firing volleys of
criticism or encouragement, as best suited the exigencies of the
moment, now she sprang forward to catch a sagging bucket, now
tended a guy to relieve a man, or handled the teams herself