“No,” said Uncle Jack quietly; “the mischief was done before we came. This place has been to let for a long time.”
“Yes,” said Uncle Bob, “that’s why we got it so cheaply.”
“And,” continued Uncle Jack, “these fellows have had the run of the works to do their grinding for almost nothing. They were wild with us for taking the place and turning them out.”
“Yes,” said Uncle Dick, “that’s the case, no doubt; but I’m very sorry I began by hurting that fellow all the same.”
“I’m not, Uncle Dick,” I said, as I compressed my lips with pain. “They are great cowards or they would not have thrown a piece of iron at me;” and I laid my hand upon my shoulder, to draw it back wet with blood.
Chapter Four.
Our Engine.
“Bravo, Spartan!” cried Uncle Bob, as he stood looking on, when, after walking some distance, Uncle Dick insisted upon my taking off my jacket in a lane and having the place bathed.