ient eye "from which no secrets are hid."

He clasped his hands together, and said, "I hope God, who has seen me
driven from the haunts of men, will forgive me for taking refuge here;
and, if he does, I don't care who else is offended, alive or dead." And,
with this, he drew the white-hot strip of steel from the forge on to the
anvil, and down came his hammer with a blow that sent the fiery steel
flying all round, and rang and echoed through the desolate building,
instantly there was a tremendous plunge and clatter, followed by a
shaking sound, and, whiz, the church was fanned by black wings going
zigzag.

"Ten thousand devils!" yelled Henry, and heaved the hammer high, in his
own defense.

But it was only the horse plunging and quivering with fear, and a score
of bats the blow of the hammer had frightened out of the rotten pulpit.

He resumed work with a beating heart, and the building rang and echoed
and re-echoed with the rapid blows; and no more interruption came. The
nineteenth century conquered.

After four hours of earnest work, he fed his horse, ate a slice of bread
and meat, drank water from the bucket, gave his horse some, and went to
sleep in a pew beside that useful animal.

Back to Hillsborough, at peep of day, with the blades he had forged.

He now took his mother, in a great measure, into his confidence, under
a strict promise to tell nobody, not even Dr. Amboyne. Mrs. Little
received the communication in a way that both surprised and encouraged
him. She was as willing to outwit the Unions, as she was willing to
resist them openly; and Henry found her an admirable coadjutor.

Had she known where Henry had set up his forge, she would have been
very unhappy. But he merely told her it was in a secluded place, near
Cairnhope, where he could never be detected.

The carving business, being merely a blind, was not pushed. But Henry
gave his apprentice, Billy, instruction, and the youth began to show an
aptitude which contrasted remarkably with his general incapacity.

Mrs. Little paid one or two visits to factories, to see what women could
do in this sort of work; and, one day, she told Henry she was sure she
could sharpen and finish the blades.

"No, mother," said Henry. "You are a lady. I can't have you made a slave
of, and your beautiful white hands spoiled."

"I shall be happier, helping you, dear; and I won't spoil my hands,
since you care about them."

She insisted on a trial, and soon acqui