it was singularly interesting, for the whole scene
of operations appeared like a small black spot, scarcely above the
level of the waves, on which a crowd of living creatures were moving
about with great and incessant activity, while all around and beyond
lay the mighty sea, sleeping in the grand tranquillity of a calm
summer day, with nothing to bound it but the blue sky, save to the
northward, where the distant cliffs of Forfar rested like a faint
cloud on the horizon.

The sounds, too, which on the rock itself were harsh and loud and
varied, came over the water to the distant observer in a united tone,
which sounded almost as sweet as soft music.

The smith's forge stood on a ledge of rock close to the
foundation-pit, a little to the north of it. Here Vulcan Dove had
fixed a strong iron framework, which formed the hearth. The four legs
which supported it were let into holes bored from six to twelve
inches into the rock, according to the inequalities of the site.
These were wedged first with wood and then with iron, for as this
part of the forge and the anvil was doomed to be drowned every tide,
or twice every day, besides being exposed to the fury of all the
storms that might chance to blow, it behoved them to fix things down
with unusual firmness.

The block of timber for supporting the anvil was fixed in the same
manner, but the anvil itself was left to depend on its own weight and
the small stud fitted into the bottom of it.

The bellows, however, were too delicate to be left exposed to such
forces as the stormy winds and waves, they were therefore shipped and
unshipped every tide, and conveyed to and from the rock in the boats
with the men.

Dove and Ruby wrought together like heroes. They were both so
powerful that the heavy implements they wielded seemed to possess no
weight when in their strong hands, and their bodies were so lithe and
active as to give the impression of men rejoicing, revelling, in the
enjoyment of their work.

"That's your sort; hit him hard, he's got no friends," said Dove,
turning a mass of red-hot metal from side to side, while Ruby pounded
it with a mighty hammer, as if it were a piece of putty.

"Fire and steel for ever," observed Ruby, as he made the sparks fly
right and left. "Hallo! the tide's rising."

"Ho! so it is," cried the smith, finishing off the piece of work with
a small hammer, while Ruby rested on the one he had used and wiped
the perspiration from his brow. "I