Calumet "K", by Samuel 
Merwin and Henry 
 
The Project Gutenberg eBook, Calumet "K", by Samuel Merwin and 
Henry Kitchell Webster 
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Title: Calumet "K" 
Author: Samuel Merwin and Henry Kitchell Webster 
 
Release Date: April 11, 2006 [eBook #18154] 
Language: English 
Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) 
***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CALUMET 
"K"*** 
E-text prepared by Robert Petty 
 
CALUMET "K"
by 
MERWIN-WEBSTER 
1904 
CHAPTER I 
The contract for the two million bushel grain elevator, Calumet K, had 
been let to MacBride & Company, of Minneapolis, in January, but the 
superstructure was not begun until late in May, and at the end of 
October it was still far from completion. Ill luck had attended Peterson, 
the constructor, especially since August. MacBride, the head of the firm, 
disliked unlucky men, and at the end of three months his patience gave 
out, and he telegraphed Charlie Bannon to leave the job he was 
completing at Duluth and report at once at the home office. 
Rumors of the way things were going at Calumet under the hands of his 
younger co-laborer had reached Bannon, and he was not greatly 
surprised when MacBride told him to go to Chicago Sunday night and 
supersede Peterson. 
At ten o'clock Monday morning, Bannon, looking out through the dusty 
window of the trolley car, caught sight of the elevator, the naked 
cribbing of its huge bins looming high above the huddled shanties and 
lumber piles about it. A few minutes later he was walking along a 
rickety plank sidewalk which seemed to lead in a general direction 
toward the elevator. The sidewalks at Calumet are at the theoretical 
grade of the district, that is, about five feet above the actual level of the 
ground. In winter and spring they are necessary causeways above seas 
of mud, but in dry weather every one abandons them, to walk straight 
to his destination over the uninterrupted flats. Bannon set down his 
hand bag to button his ulster, for the wind was driving clouds of smoke 
and stinging dust and an occasional grimy snowflake out of the 
northwest. Then he sprang down from the sidewalk and made his way 
through the intervening bogs and, heedless of the shouts of the 
brakemen, over a freight train which was creaking its endless length 
across his path, to the elevator site.
The elevator lay back from the river about sixty yards and parallel to it. 
Between was the main line of the C. & S. C, four clear tracks unbroken 
by switch or siding. On the wharf, along with a big pile of timber, was 
the beginning of a small spouting house, to be connected with the main 
elevator by a belt gallery above the C. & S. C. tracks. A hundred yards 
to the westward, up the river, the Belt Line tracks crossed the river and 
the C. & S. C. right of way at an oblique angle, and sent two side tracks 
lengthwise through the middle of the elevator and a third along the 
south side, that is, the side away from the river. 
Bannon glanced over the lay of the land, looked more particularly at the 
long ranges of timber to be used for framing the cupola, and then asked 
a passing workman the way to the office. He frowned at the wretched 
shanty, evidently an abandoned Belt Line section house, which 
Peterson used for headquarters. Then, setting down his bag just outside 
the door, he went in. 
"Where's the boss?" he asked. 
The occupant of the office, a clerk, looked up impatiently, and spoke in 
a tone reserved to discourage seekers for work. 
"He ain't here. Out on the job somewhere." 
"Palatial office you've got," Bannon commented. "It would help those 
windows to have 'em ploughed." He brought his bag into the office and 
kicked it under a desk, then began turning over a stack of blue prints 
that lay, weighted down with a coupling pin, on the table. 
"I guess I can find Peterson for you if you want to see him," said the 
clerk. 
"Don't worry about my finding him," came from Bannon, deep in his 
study of the plans. A moment later he went out. 
A gang of laborers was engaged in moving the timbers back from the 
railroad siding. Superintending the work was a squat little man-- 
Bannon could not see until near by that he was not a boy--big-headed,
big-handed, big-footed. He stood there in his shirt-sleeves, his back to 
Bannon, swearing good-humoredly at the men. When he turned toward 
him Bannon saw    
    
		
	
	
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