While Bannon stood watching the carpenters, one of them sawed off the end of a plank and dropped it down into the bin.  There was a low laugh, and one or two of the men glanced uneasily at Bannon.  He spoke to the offender.

“Don’t do that again if you want to stay on this job.  You know there are men at work down there.”  Then:  “Look here,” he called, getting the attention of all the carpenters, “every man that drops anything into the bins gets docked an hour’s pay.  If he does it twice he leaves the job just as quick as we can make out a time-check.  I want you to be careful.”

He was picking his way over to the group of men about the hoisting pole, when he heard another general laugh from the carpenters.  Turning back he saw them all looking at a fellow named Reilly, who, trying to suppress a smile, was peering with mock concern down into the dark bin.  “My hammer slipped,” Bannon heard him say in a loud aside to the man nearest him.  Then, with a laugh:  “Accidents will happen.”

Bannon almost smiled himself, for the man had played right into his hand.  He had, in the four days since he took command, already become aware of Reilly and had put him down for the sort ambitious to rise rather in the organization of his union than in his trade.

“I guess we won’t take the trouble to dock you,” he said.  “Go to the office and get your time.  And be quick about it, too.”

“Did ye mean me?” the man asked impudently, but Bannon, without heeding, went over to the hoist.  Presently a rough hand fell on his shoulder.  “Say,” demanded Reilly again, “did ye mean me?”

“No doubt of that.  Go and get your time.”

“I guess not,” said the man.  “Not me.  My hammer just slipped.  How’re you going to prove I meant to do it?”

“I’m not.  I’m going to fire you.  You ain’t laid off, you understand; you’re fired.  If you ever come back, I’ll have you kicked off the place.”

“You don’t dare fire me,” the man said, coming nearer.  “You’ll have to take me back tomorrow.”

“I’m through talking with you,” said Bannon, still quietly.  “The faster you can light out of here the better.”

“We’ll see about that.  You can’t come it on the union that way—­”

Then, without any preparatory gesture whatever, Bannon knocked him down.  The man seemed to fairly rebound from the floor.  He rushed at the boss, but before he could come within striking distance, Bannon whipped out a revolver and dropped it level with Reilly’s face.

“I’ve talked to you,” he said slowly, his eye blazing along the barrel, “and I’ve knocked you down.  But—­”

The man staggered back, then walked away very pale, but muttering.  Bannon shoved back the revolver into his hip pocket.  “It’s all right, boys,” he said, “nothing to get excited about.”

He walked to the edge and looked over.  “We can’t wait to pick it up a stick at a time,” he said.  “I’ll tell ’em to load four or five on each larry.  Then you can lift the whole bunch.”