“First, in the bottom of the cupola, they make a fire of shavings and wood, with a little coal; then they put in coke, pig iron, scrap iron, and limestone, according to the rule for the kind of iron that they want to make.
“Those heaps all pieced together, Billy?”
“Sure,” answered Billy; and, then, the whistle blew.
Deep down in his heart, Billy didn’t like that whistle. He didn’t tell Uncle John, because William Wallace scorned anybody who felt like that. William Wallace said that being on time—on time to the minute—was only just business. Nevertheless, Billy missed being free. Aunt Mary’s errands hadn’t been timed by the clock.
There was another reason why he didn’t tell Uncle John how he felt.
“Stand by your job, every minute that you belong on it,” was one of the things that Uncle John had said so many times that it almost worried Billy.
But, before the summer was over, Billy was glad that he had kept that on his mind.
CHAPTER III
A MOUNTAIN OF IRON
