“No one would think you had just fallen heir to a large sum,” said the boy, for to him ten thousand dollars was a great deal of money.
“I do not intend to let the money make any difference to me, except that I shall do work on a larger scale,” remarked the blacksmith. “I intend to keep the shop going until I can sell it, for I have several contracts to complete, and it would not be right to drop them. There is no other blacksmith in the village to whom people can go. Besides, I like to work.”
It would seem so, from the way the sturdy old man rained blow after blow on a glowing piece of iron, hammering it into shape, while the red sparks flew all around.
When the iron cooled he thrust it into the forge fire, and, with bared arms he worked the bellows handle causing the flames and sparks to shoot up the chimney, and lighting the smithy with a yellow glow.
“Can’t I help at something?” asked Dan.
“Yes, if you like. There is a box of nails and screws that are all mixed up. I wish you would sort them according to sizes, and put them into small boxes. It is something I have often tried in vain to get time to do.”
Dan set to work with a will. Even in the smithy, which naturally was not a very clean place, he liked it better than on the farm.
Dan and the blacksmith continued to live together, the boy helping with odd jobs around the shop, and learning much that was afterward to prove useful to him. The excitement caused by the trial had somewhat died away, and during the next two weeks though the two constables spent part of every day looking for clues to the robbers, they found none.
“The town ought to hire a detective from the city,” said Mr. Harrison one evening, when, after the day’s work was done, he and Dan were talking the matter over.
“Yes, I wish they would find out who robbed the place. My trial will come off in the fall, and unless there is some evidence discovered they may find me guilty.”