"Hard work's not easy," observed James Dove, pausing in the midst of his labours to wipe his brow.
"True for ye; but as we've got to arn our brid be the sweat of our brows, we're in the fair way to fortin," said Ned O'Connor, blowing away energetically with the big bellows.
Ned had been reappointed to this duty since the erection of the second forge, which was in Ruby's charge. It was our hero's hammer that created such a din up in the beacon, while Dove wrought down on the rock.
"We'll have a gale to-night," said the smith; "I know that by the feelin' of the air."
"Well, I can't boast o' much knowledge o' feelin'," said O'Connor; "but I believe you're right, for the fish towld me the news this mornin'."
This remark of Ned had reference to a well-ascertained fact, that, when a storm was coming, the fish invariably left the neighbourhood of the rock; doubtless in order to seek the security of depths which are not affected by winds or waves.
While Dove and his comrade commented on this subject, two of the other men had retired to the south-eastern end of the rock to take a look at the weather. These were Peter Logan, the foreman, whose position required him to have a care for the safety of the men as well as for the progress of the work, and our friend Bremner, who had just descended from the cooking-room, where he had been superintending the preparation of supper.
"It will be a stiff breeze, I fear, to-night," said Logan.
"D'ye think so?" said Bremner; "it seems to me so calm that I would think a storm a'most impossible. But the fish never tell lies."
"True. You got no fish to-day, I believe?" said Logan.