ds, and went away, leaving us looking at each other
across the table.

"Cheerful place Arrowfield seems to be," said Uncle Dick.

"Promises to be lively," said Uncle Jack.

"What do you say, Cob?" cried Uncle Bob. "Shall we give up, be
frightened, and run away like dogs with our tails between our legs?"

"No!" I cried, thumping the table with my fist. "I wouldn't be
frightened out of anything I felt to be right."

"Bravo! Bravo! Bravo!" cried my uncles.

"At least I don't think I would," I said. "Perhaps I really am a coward
after all."

"Well," said Uncle Dick, "I don't feel like giving up for such a thing
as this. I'd sooner buy pistols and guns and fight. It can't be so bad
as the old gentleman says. He's only scaring us. There, it's ten
o'clock; you fellows are tired, and we want to breakfast early and go
and see the works, so let's get to bed."

We were far enough out of the smoke for our bedrooms to be beautifully
white and sweet, and I was delighted with mine, as I saw what a snug
little place it was. I said "Good-night!" and had shut my door, when,
going to my window, I drew aside the blind, and found that I was looking
right down upon the town.

"Oh!" I ejaculated, and I ran out to the next room, which was Uncle
Dick's. "Look!" I cried. "Now you'll believe me. The town is on
fire."

He drew up the blind, and threw up his window, when we both looked down
at what seemed to be the dying out of a tremendous conflagration--dying
out, save in one place, where there was a furious rush of light right up
into the air, with sparks flying and flickering tongues of flame darting
up and sinking down again, while the red and tawny-yellow smoke rolled
away.

"On fire, Cob!" he said quietly. "Yes, the town's on fire, but in the
proper way. Arrowfield is a fiery place--all furnaces. There's nothing
the matter, lad."

"But there! There!" I cried, "where the sparks are roaring and rushing
out with all that flame."

"There! Oh! That's nothing, my boy. The town is always like this."

"But you don't see where I mean," I cried, still doubting, and pointing
down to our right.

"Oh, yes! I do, my dear boy. That is where they are making the
Bessemer steel."

CHAPTER THREE.

A BAD BEGINNING.

I thought when I lay down, after putting out my candle, that I should
never get a wink of sleep. There was a dull glow upon my window-blind,
and I could hear a distant clangour and a curious fa