His surprise may be imagined then when he saw Fret Offut step from behind a huge boiler as he approached. Still he did not dream of any sinister purpose in the minds of the two, and he was about to stoop to lift a piece of iron at the request of Furniss, when he discovered a bar of iron so suspended over his head from the cross timber that a slight movement on his part was sure to bring it down upon his head.
No sooner had he seen his precarious situation than he started back, when Fret Offut flung a heavy slug at his feet. The effect was startling, for the concussion on the floor sent the menacing bar overhead downward with fearful force.
Jack succeeded in dodging the blow so far that he escaped the full weight of the falling iron, which struck the floor endwise with a heavy thud. But before he could get beyond its reach the massive bar tipped over, falling in such way as to strike him in the side of the head, and felling him senseless to the floor.
In a moment Furniss and Offut were bending over him with anxious looks on their grimy countenances.
“Is he killed?” asked the younger of the twain.
Jack answered the question himself by opening his eyes, though he was still too bewildered to attempt to rise.
“What did you do that for?” he demanded.
“Do what?” questioned Fret Offut. “You know well enough. You fixed that bar so it would hit me.”
“Hear the boy talk!” came from Furniss. “It is true. If I get the chance--”
“Stop, you shan’t get us into trouble,” yelled the man, in a rage.