sky,
cutting the dense cloud like millions of golden arrows shot from some
mighty engine all at once.

"Yes, I see, old fellow," said Uncle Jack. "They have just tapped a
furnace, and the molten metal is running into the moulds, that's all."

"But the whole town looks as if it were in a blaze," I said nervously.

"So did our works sometimes, didn't they? Well, here we are in a town
where there are hundreds upon hundreds of works ten times as big as
ours. Nearly everybody is either forging, or casting, or grinding. The
place is full of steam-engines, while the quantity of coal that is burnt
here every day must be prodigious. Aha! Here's Uncle Dick."

He had caught sight of us before we saw him, and threw open the
carriage-door ready to half haul us out, as he shook hands as if we had
not met for months.

"That's right," he cried. "I _am_ glad you've come. I've a cab
waiting. Here, porter, lay hold of this baggage. Well, Cob, what do
you think of Arrowfield?"

"Looks horrible," I said in the disappointed tones of one who is tired
and hungry.

"Yes, outside," said Uncle Dick; "but wait till you see the inside."

Uncle Dick was soon standing in what he called the inside of
Arrowfield--that is to say the inside of the comfortable furnished
lodgings he had taken right up a hill, where, over a cosy tea-table with
hot country cakes and the juiciest of hot mutton chops, I soon forgot
the wearisome nature of our journey, and the dismal look of the town.

"Eat away, my boys," cried Uncle Dick. "Yeat, as they call it here.
The place is all right; everything ready for work, and we'll set to with
stout hearts, and make up for lost time."

"When do we begin, uncle--to-morrow?"

"No, no: not till next Monday morning. To-morrow we'll have a look over
the works, and then we'll idle a bit--have a few runs into the country
round, and see what it's like."

"Black dismal place," I said dolefully.

"Says he's tired out and wants to go to bed," said Uncle Jack, giving
his eye a peculiar cock at his brothers.

"I didn't," I cried.

"Not in words, my fine fellow, but you looked it."

"Then I won't look so again," I cried. "I say, don't talk to me as if I
were a little boy to be sent to bed."

"Well, you're not a man yet, Cob. Is he, boys?"

Uncle Dick was in high spirits, and he took up a candle and held it
close to my cheek.

"What's the matter?" I said. "Is it black? I shouldn't wonder."

"Not a bit,