DRAMA OF FURNACE, FORGE AND SHOP 271 



The man in the cage joins the man of the bar, bites off 

 a quid from his plug of tobacco, and they talk of their charges 

 as if these were human. " She's contrary to-day," says the 

 man of the hammer. "I went all over every nut with the 

 wrench before we started up. They're all snug, but she 

 creaks as though she was racked to pieces. The bed shakes 

 so I am nearly knocked off my feet when I let the hammer go. 

 Probably to-morrow she'll be all right. Gets freakish." 



"That was the way with mine last week," says the man 

 of the cage. "Couldn't stop the crab at the right time to 

 save myself — kept runnin' after I pulled the stop lever. Had 

 the electrician look it over. He says nothin's the matter. I 

 know there ain't either — just pure cussedness. It's a brute 

 sometimes that way. Now, Tom there has been workin' his 

 crane for a year, and he says it always goes wrong somehow 

 on Mondays — jest as if it had been takin' too much the night 

 before." 



Strange, even grotesque, language to come from the lips 

 of men so dignified as you watched them in the scenes in 

 which they participated. But these men show their char- 

 acter in their vocation. Though they may not have the 

 faculty of expression, it only needs a glance at the stern, set 

 faces beside the hammer and press, reflected in the furnace 

 glow or revealed in the light of the white hot metal to realize 

 that they feel their responsibility, they appreciate the danger 

 of their work — but there is no sign of weakness, no hesitation 

 in doing their duty. 



In this drama of the day's work, tableaux are not lacking 

 — statuesque groupings that would be the delight of the 

 sculptor. In the first transformation of the liquid to the 

 ingot you note how men remain rigid in their positions — not 

 a muscle moving until the time for action comes. Beside 

 the press and hammer, awaiting the master's signal, could 

 something of the supernatural change them to marble or 

 bronze, the strength, resolution, earnestness typified in their 

 positions alone would give that group a place of honor in 

 the salon. 



You curiously regard the molder standing besides the 

 metal. Of your own strength you could not move the thou- 



