ig noise-shop!" he commanded.

The great iron works, with many tall buildings, stood at the edge of
the waterfall. High chimneys sent forth dark clouds of smoke, blasting
furnaces blazed, and light shone from all the windows. Within, hammers
and rolling mills were going with such force that the air rang with
their clatter and boom. All about the workshops were immense coal
sheds, great slag heaps, warehouses, wood piles, and tool sheds. Just
beyond were long rows of workingmen's houses, as quiet as if they were
asleep. The earth around them was black while the works, themselves,
were sending out light and smoke, fire and sparks. It was the grandest
sight the boy had ever seen.

"Could you set fire to a place like that?" Father Bear asked
doubtfully.

The boy stood wedged between the beast's paws, thinking the only thing
that might save him would be that the bear should have a high opinion
of his power.

"It's all the same to me," he answered with a superior air. "Big or
little, I can burn it down."

"Then I'll tell you something," said Father Bear.

"My forefathers lived in this region from the time that the forests
first sprang up. From them I inherited hunting grounds and pastures,
lairs and retreats. In the beginning I wasn't much troubled by the
human kind. They dug in the mountains and picked up a little ore down
here by the rapids. They had a forge and a furnace, but the hammer
sounded only a few hours each day, and the furnace was not fired more
than two moons at a stretch.

"But these last years, since they have built this noise-shop, there is
racket day and night. I thought I should have to move away, but now I
have discovered a better way."

Father Bear took Nils up again and lumbered down the hill. He walked
fearlessly between the workshops, and climbed to the top of a slag
heap. There he sat up on his haunches and held the boy up high between
his paws.

"Try to look into the shop," he said.

The boy saw a workman take a short, thick bar of iron at white heat
from a furnace opening, and place it under a roller that flattened and
extended it. Immediately another workman seized it and placed it
beneath a heavier roller. Thus it was passed from roller to roller
until, finally, it curled along the floor like a long red thread.
Continuously fresh threads followed it like hissing snakes.

"I call that real man's work!" the boy said to himself.

Father Bear then let him have a peep at the forge, and