"The damned old frog-eater's losing his nerve; that's what! I ain't going to be held up by no frog-spawn."
He opened the office door and clumped up to the railing.
The superintendent looked up.
"What is it, Luna?"
"Long, on number ten battery, is sick and off shift. Shall we hang up ten, or put on Morrison?"
The superintendent smiled.
"Is it Morrison, or hang up?" he asked.
The question was disconcerting. The foreman shifted his footing.
"Morrison is all right," he said, doggedly. "He's a good battery man. Things ain't pushing at the Blue Goose, and he can come as well as not."
"What's the matter with Morrison?" The superintendent's smile broadened.