carefully measured out, the
mixture was boiled at a tremendous heat in great kettles. The formula
for this dressing was a secret and was the result of many chemical
experiments. All Peter and Nat could learn was that there was oil and
Prussian blue in it, and something else with a stifling odor which
caused it to dry quickly. No one was allowed in the room where, in the
intense heat, the mixers--almost naked--toiled amid the clouds of steam
which rose from the bubbling kettles. After the liquid had reached the
necessary degree of temperature it was poured out into tanks where it
was prevented from settling by being constantly agitated by the gentle
motion of revolving paddles. Here it was kept until taken to the
"slickers" to be used.

"And the reason that the building stands off by itself," declared Nat to
Peter one day, "is because there is danger of the oil and stuff in the
varnish taking fire or blowing up; I found that out from one of the men
to-day. In that other low building off by itself are stored the supplies
for making the varnish and that place has to be isolated too for the
same reason."

"Good for you, Nat! We've gained one point anyhow. Did you find out
anything else?"

"No. When the man saw that I was really interested he wouldn't tell me
anything more. There is, though, a nice old Irishman--a friend of
Carmachel's--here somewhere. I met him once at noon time over at the
park. Maybe he will help us."

"There are plenty of things that I want to ask him if he ever turns up,"
Peter replied. "I only hope he will be decent to us. I am sure he would
if he knew how hard we are trying to learn. One thing I am anxious to
know is why on earth they don't dry the freshly varnished patent leather
in the factory. Look at the work it makes for the men to bring it out
here in the yard and stand it up against these hundreds of wooden racks.
I should think by this time it would have dawned on somebody that it
would be lots less trouble to dry it indoors in a hot room; shouldn't
you?"

But it wasn't Nat who answered. Instead a voice with a decided Irish
brogue replied kindly:

"Well, you see, my lad, no way has ever been found to dry patent leather
except by the sun's rays. If somebody could invent a kind of japan that
would dry in the house his fortune would be made. But nobody ever has.
Every fine day the hundreds of frames have to be brought out and propped
up in the sun--a jolly bit of work, I can tell you!"