The man he had thought dead was
not quite dead. Although the whole side of his head was torn away, he still
breathed. His mouth opened and closed convulsively. A dreadful illness took
possession of the carpenter. He had an elder brother who had died when
he was a boy, but the face of the man on the ground was the face of his
brother. Ben sat up in bed and shouted. "Help, for God's sake, help! It's
my own brother. Don't you see, it is Harry Peeler?" he cried. His wife
awoke and shook him. "What's the matter, Ben," she asked anxiously. "What's
the matter?" "It was a dream," he said, and let his head drop wearily on
the pillow. His wife went to sleep again, but he stayed awake the rest of
the night. When on the next morning Gordon Hart suggested the insurance
idea, he was delighted. "That settles it of course," he said to himself.
"It's simple enough, you see. That settles everything."
In his shop on Main Street Joe Wainsworth had plenty to do after the boom
came to Bidwell. Many teams were employed in the hauling of building
materials; loads of paving brick were being carted from cars to where they
were to be laid on Main Street; and teams hauled earth from where the new
Main Street sewer was being dug and from the freshly dug cellars of houses.
Never had there been so many teams employed and so much repairing of
harness to do. Joe's apprentice had left him, had been carried off by the
rush of young men to the places where the boom had arrived earlier.
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