And at first he did little but watch and, as Truxton had suggested, try to study his men. He saw that both the Lark and Ben said very few words, that when they did speak they barked out short, explosive commands surcharged with profanity, that when they interfered there was a good reason for it, that their commands were obeyed without hesitation and without question. Not once in two hours did either of them so much as look toward him. And the long processions of men and horses came and went, scooped and dumped their big scraper-loads, and swung back into the ditch, each man of them moving like a machine. It was after three o'clock when he noticed something which he would have seen before had he been used to the work and the men. He saw the long string of scrapers come to a halt for perhaps two minutes; saw that the cause of the halt was a big Northlander who had stopped just as he came upon the bank and was working over at race-chain which seemed to be causing trouble. In a moment he started up again, the other scrapers began to move, and Conniston dismissed the matter as of no consequence. This was the gang over which Ben was foreman. He glanced quickly at the big Englishman and saw that his eyes were upon the Northlander. Again, not twenty minutes later, came a second brief stoppage, again the Swede was working over a trace-chain--and now Ben had swung about and was striding toward Conniston. "Hi say there," he said, as he came to Conniston's side. "Bat says Hi'm to take horders off you. Do you want me to 'andle those Johnnies? Hor do you figure on a-stepping in? Hi?" "What do you mean?" demanded Conniston, a bit puzzled. "I haven't interfered with you, have I?" "No. Hi just want to know, you know. Hi 'andle 'em my wi, hor Hi quit, you know." "You are to do just as you have always done," Conniston told him, shortly. "If you can handle them, all right. Go to it. If you need any help--What's the matter?" "Hi don't awsk any 'elp," muttered Ben. "Just one man--" "You mean that Swede with the big white mare in the lead?" interrupted Conniston, quickly. Ben looked at him swiftly. Grunting an answer which Conniston did not catch, he turned and went back along the edge of the ditch. The Swede was again coming up the bank. At the top he did as he had done more than once before: turned out in a wide circle, letting two men pass him. The Englishman strode swiftly toward him. "Hi, there, you big Swede!" he yelled, his words accompanied by a volley of insulting epithets born in the slums of London. "Wot you trying to do? Want the 'ole works to pawss you w'ile you rest? You blooming spoonbill, get inter that! Step lively, man!" The Northlander's heavy, slow-moving feet stopped entirely as he turned a stolid face toward the foreman. "I bane to like I tam plase," he muttered, slowly. "Yo bane go hell."