Two by two came men bearing between them long-handled iron ladles. The great ladle swung forward, for a moment, on its tilting gear, and the men bore away their ladles filled with iron that the great dragon had changed from its own dull gray to the brilliant yellow of gold.
The molds, as they were filled, smoked from all their venting places, till, to his picture, Billy added a place for a battle-field.
By the time that the last molds were filled, some of the men began to take off the wooden frames, and there the iron was, gray again, but, this time, shaped for the use of man.
“See,” said Uncle John, coming to the window, “there are our corn cutters. Came out pretty well, didn’t they?”
“Wasn’t it great!” exclaimed Billy.
“Just about as wonderful every time,” said Uncle John.
“What do they do next?” asked Billy.
“Make new heaps of sand—every man his own heap—and in the morning, after the castings have been carried into the mill, they begin all over again.”
“I’m so glad I saw it,” said Billy, drawing a deep breath of satisfaction.
That night he told Aunt Mary about what he had seen. And he thought about it almost until he fell asleep. Almost, but not quite; for, just as he was dozing off, William Wallace said: