noon
Grab it , pile it yonder . The boards , slide over the shoot . '' For these were still primitive days for labor-saving devices , and men were still the cheapest thing about a mill . Perrotte grabbed the slab , heaved it down to its pile of waste , the next board he slid into the shoot , and so continued till noon found him pale and staggering . `` What 's the matter with you ? '' said Maitland . `` Notting -- me bon , '' said Perrotte , and , clutching at the door jamb , hung there gasping .