"I don't know anything about that," he replied sullenly. "I've got my orders. We didn't make any kick when you opened up in one place, but we can't stand for all this."
He was not speaking firmly, and Bannon, watching him closely, jumped at the conclusion that his orders were not very definite. Probably his superintendent had instructed him to keep a close eye on the work, and perhaps to grant no privileges. Bannon wished he knew more about the understanding between the railroad and MacBride & Company. He felt sure, however, that an understanding did exist or he would not have been told to go ahead.
"That's all right," he said, with an air of easy authority. "We've got to be working over your tracks for the next two months. It's as much to our interest as it is to yours to be careful, and I guess we can pull together. We've got an agreement with your general manager, and that's what goes." He turned away, but paused and added, "I'll see that you don't have any reason to complain."
The section boss looked about with an uncertain air at the crowd of waiting men.
"Don't go too fast there—" he began.
"Look here," said Bannon, abruptly. "We'll sit right down here and send a message to the general manager. That's the quickest way to settle it—tell him that we're carrying out timber across the tracks and you've stopped us."
It was a bluff, but Bannon knew his man.
"Now, how about this?" was the reply. "How long will it take you?"
"Till some time before daylight." Bannon was feeling for his pencil.
"You see that the fence goes back, will you? We ain't taking any chances, you understand."