"This way, Miss Vogel," he called. "The elevator starts in a minute. You came pretty near being late."
"Am I going to get in that?" she asked; and she looked up, with a little gasp, along the dwindling rope.
"Here," said Max, "don't you say nothing against that elevator. I call it pretty grand."
She stood on the block, holding to one of the ropes, and looking alternately into the box and up to the narrow sky above them.
"It's awfully high," she said. "Is that little stick up there all that's going to hold me up?"
"That little stick is ten-by-twelve," Max replied. "It would hold more'n a dozen of you."
She laughed, but still hesitated. She lowered her eyes and looked about the great dim space of the working story with its long aisles and its solid masses of timber. Suddenly she turned to Bannon, who was standing at her side, waiting to give her a hand.
"Oh, Mr. Bannon," she said, "are you sure it's strong enough? It doesn't look safe."
"I think it's safe," he replied quietly. He vaulted into the box and signalled to the laborers. Hilda stepped back off the block as he went up perhaps a third of the way, and then came down. She said nothing, but stepped on the block.
"How shall I get in?" she asked, laughing a little, but not looking at
Bannon.