"Good morning, Clem. What are you going to do with that rooster?"
"I want to sell him. Andrew said you wanted one."
"Yes; mine froze last winter. What do you ask for him?"
"I'll sell him for that horse-shoe what's hanging on your barn-yard fence."
"What on earth do you want of that horse-shoe?"
"I want to make some bow-pins for my steers."
"Well, you may have it, and after you have made 'em, I want to see 'em."
As William Richardson came home, he saw smoke coming out of the chimney of the shop, and heard the sound of the hammer and sledge. Looking through a chink, he saw the boys busy enough. Clem was behind the anvil. They had flattened out the heel calks of the horse-shoe, straightened it, and lapped one part over the other. Just as he looked in, Clem was putting sand on it; in a few moments he took it from the fire, welding hot: Robert struck with the sledge, and they soon drew it out into a thin, square bar.
"I hope you ain't wasting my iron, boys."