“We'll give ye Ben,” said Tom, whose nerve was coming back to him. “We don't want to hog on ye too much.”
“Never you mind, Ben,” said Rory, as the little Englishman strutted to his place among Rory's men. “You'll earn your supper to-day with the best of them.”
“If I cawn't hearn it I can heat it, by Jove!” cried Ben, to the huge delight of the crowd.
And now the thrilling moment had arrived, for from this point out there was to be a life-and-death contest as to which side should complete each its part of the structure first. The main plates, the “purline” plates, posts and braces, the rafters and collar beams, must all be set securely in position. The side whose last man was first down from the building after its work was done claimed the victory. In two opposing lines a hundred men stood, hats, coats, vests and, in case of those told off to “ride” the plates, boots discarded. A brawny, sinewy lot they were, quick of eye and steady of nerve, strong of hand and sure of foot, men to be depended upon whether to raise a barn or to build an empire. The choice of sides fell to Rory, who took the north, or bank, side.
“Niver fret, Barney,” cried Tom Magee, who in the near approach of battle was his own man again. “Niver ye fret. It's birrds we are, an' the more air for us the better.”
Between the sides stood the framer ready to give the word.
“Aren't they splendid!” said Margaret in a low tone to Mrs. Boyle, her cheek pale and her blue eyes blazing with excitement. “Oh, if I were only a boy!”
“Ay,” said Mrs. Boyle, “ye'd be riding the plate, I doubt.”
“Wouldn't I, though! My! they're fine!” answered the girl, with her eyes upon Barney. And more eyes than hers were upon the young captain, whose rugged face showed pale even at that distance.
“Now then, men,” cried the framer. “Mind your pins. Are you ready?” holding his hat high in the air.