Upon the night of the letting of the contract the first man to arrive was McGaw. He ran up the stairs hurriedly, found no one he was looking for, and returned to O'Leary's, where he was joined by Justice Rowan and his brother John, the contractor, Quigg, Crimmins, and two friends of the Union. During the last week the Union was outspoken in its aid of McGaw, and its men had quietly passed the word of "Hands off this job!" about in the neighborhood. If McGaw got the work--and there was now not the slightest doubt of it--he would, of course, employ all Union men.
If anybody else got it--well, they would attend to him later.
"One thing was certain: no 'scab' from New Brighton should come over and take it." They'd do up anybody who tried that game.
When McGaw, surrounded by his friends entered the board-room again, the place was full. Outside the rail stood a solid mass of people. Inside every seat was occupied. It was too important a meeting for any trustee to miss.
McGaw stood on his toes and looked over the heads. To his delight, Tom was not in the room, and no one representing her. If he had had any lingering suspicion of her bidding, her non-appearance allayed it. He knew now that she was out of the race. Moreover, no New Brighton people had come. He whispered this information to Justice Rowan's brother behind his big, speckled hand covered with its red, spidery hair. Then the two forced their way out again, reentered the post-office, and borrowed a pen. Once there, McGaw took from his side pocket two large envelopes, the contents of which he spread out under the light.
"I'm dead roight," said McGaw. "I'll put up the price of this other bid. There ain't a man round here that dares show his head.
The Union's fixed 'em."
"Will the woman bid?" asked his companion.
"The woman! What'd she be a-doin' wid a bid loike that? She c'u'dn't handle the half of it. I'll wait till a few minutes to nine o'clock. Ye kin fix up both these bids an' hold 'em in yer pocket. Thin we kin see what bids is laid on the table. Ours'll go in last. If there's nothin' else we'll give'em the high one.
I'll git inside the rail, so's to be near the table."
When the two squeezed back through the throng again into the board-room, even the staircase was packed. McGaw pulled off his fur cap and struggled past the rail, bowing to the president. The justice's brother stood outside, within reach of McGaw's hand.
McGaw glanced at the clock and winked complacently at his prospective partner--not a single bid had been handed in. Then he thrust out his long arm, took from Rowan's brother the big envelope containing the higher bid, and dropped it on the table.
Just then there was a commotion at the door. Somebody was trying to force a passage in. The president rose from his chair, and looked over the crowd. McGaw started from his chair, looked anxiously at the clock, then at his partner. The body of a boy struggling like an eel worked its way through the mass, dodged under the wooden bar, and threw an envelope on the table.
"Dat's Tom Grogan's bid," he said, looking at the president.
"Hully gee! but dat was a close shave! She telled me not ter dump it till one minute o' nine, an' de bloke at de door come near sp'ilin' de game till I give him one in de mug."
At this instant the clock struck nine, and the president's gavel fell.
"Time's up," said the Scotchman.
