Send down somethin' with a
mustache, will I? There's not a man in the yard that's a match
for me, an' ye know it. Let one of 'em try that."
Her uplifted fist, tight-clenched, shot past Lathers's ear. A
quick blow, a plank knocked clear of its fastenings, and a flood
of daylight broke in behind Lathers's head!
"Now, the next time I come, Pete Lathers," she said firmly, "I'll
miss the plank and take yer face."
Then she turned, and stalked out of the yard.
III
SERGEANT DUFFY'S LITTLE GAME
The bad weather so long expected finally arrived. An afternoon of
soft, warm autumn skies, aglow with the radiance of the setting
sun, and brilliant in violet and gold, had been followed by a
cold, gray morning. Of a sudden a cloud the size of a hand had
mounted clear of the horizon, and called together its fellows. An
unseen herald in the east blew a blast, and winds and sea awoke.
By nine o'clock a gale was blowing. By ten Babcock's men were
bracing the outer sheathing of the coffer-dam, strengthening the
derrick-guys, tightening the anchor-lines, and clearing the
working-platforms of sand, cement, and other damageable property.
The course-masonry, fortunately, was above the water-line, but the
coping was still unset and the rubble backing of much of the wall
unfinished.
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