noon
This was the first time in his life that he had ever really worked , it seemed to Jurgis ; it was the first time that he had ever had anything to do which took all he had in him . Jurgis had stood with the rest up in the gallery and watched the men on the killing beds , marveling at their speed and power as if they had been wonderful machines ; it somehow never occurred to one to think of the flesh-and-blood side of it -- that is , not until he actually got down into the pit and took off his coat . Then he saw things in a different light , he got at the inside of them . The pace they set here , it was one that called for every faculty of a man -- from the instant the first steer fell till the sounding of the noon whistle , and again from half-past twelve till heaven only knew what hour in the late afternoon or evening , there was never one instant 's rest for a man , for his hand or his eye or his brain . Jurgis saw how they managed it ; there were portions of the work which determined the pace of the rest , and for these they had picked men whom they paid high wages , and whom they changed frequently . You might easily pick out these pacemakers , for they worked under the eye of the bosses , and they worked like men possessed . This was called `` speeding up the gang , '' and if any man could not keep up with the pace , there were hundreds outside begging to try .