Something he never was Before, 23

surely have knocked a hole in that, though they
were not able to knock the anvil down halfway into
the earth, as the giant smith in the story did.

While this was going on, Mr Macmichael, per-
ceiving that the operation ought not to be inter-
rupted any more than a surgical one, stood quite
still waiting, and Willie stood also—absorbed in
staring, and gradually creeping nearer and nearer
to the anvil, for there were no sparks flying about
to make it dangerous to the eyes, as there would
have been if they had been striking the iron itself
instead of the punch.

As soon as the punch was driven through, and
the smith had dropped his sledge-hammer, and
begun to wipe his forehead, Willie spoke.

“Mr Willet,” he said, for he knew every man of
any standing in the village by name and profession,
“why did you put bits of coal into the hole you
were making? I should have thought it would
be in the way rather than help you.”

“So it would, my little man,” answered Willet,
with no grim though grimy smile, “if it didn’t take
fire and keep getting out of the way all the time
it kept up the heat. You see we depend on the
heat for getting through, and it’s much less trouble
to drop a bit of coal or two into the hole, than to
take up the big axle and lay it in the fire again,
not to mention the time and the quantity of coal
it would take to heat it up afresh,”