James Claypole's interest soon faded; he returned to his chair by the door of the dwelling10, where he laboriously12 spelled out the periods of a battered13 copy of Addison's "Evidences of the Christian14 Religion." He broke the perusal15 with frequent ecstatic ejaculations; and when Hulings reluctantly returned from his study of the forge the other was again on his knees, lost in passionate16 prayer. Hulings grew hungry—Claypole was utterly18 lost in visions—cooked some bacon and found cold biscuit in the shedlike kitchen.
The afternoon passed into a tenderly fragrant19 twilight20 The forge retreated, apparently21 through the trees, into the evening. Alexander Hulings sat regarding it with an increasing impatience22; first, it annoyed him to see such a potentiality of power lying fallow, and then his annoyance23 ripened24 into an impatience with Claypole that he could scarcely contain. The impracticable ass17! It was a crime to keep the wheel stationary25, the hearths cold.
He had a sudden burning desire to see Tubal Cain stirring with life; to hear the beat of the hammer forging iron; to see the dark, still interior lurid26 with fire. He thought again of John Wooddrop, and his instinctive27 disparagement28 of the accomplishments29 of others mocked both them and himself. If he, Alexander Hulings, had had Claypole's chance, his beginning, he would be more powerful than Wooddrop now.
The law was a trivial foolery compared to the fashioning, out of the earth itself, of iron. Iron, the indispensable! Railroads, in spite of the popular, vulgar disbelief, were a coming great factor; a thousand new uses, refinements30, improved processes of manufacture were bound to develop. His thoughts took fire and swept over him in a conflagration31 of enthusiasm. By heaven, if Claypole had failed he would succeed. He, too, would be an Ironmaster!
A brutal32 chill overtook him with the night; he shook pitiably; dark fears crept like noxious33 beetles34 among his thoughts. James Claypole sat, with his hands on his gaunt knees, gazing, it might be, at a miraculous35 golden city beyond the black curtain of the world. Later Hulings lay on a couch of boards, folded in coarse blankets and his cape36, fighting the familiar evil sinking of his oppressed spirit. He was again cold and yet drenched38 with sweat... if he were defeated now, he thought, if he collapsed39, he was done, shattered! And in his swirling40 mental anguish41 he clung to one stable, cool fact; he saw, like Claypole, a vision; but not gold—great shadowy masses of iron. Before dawn the dread42 receded43; he fell asleep.
He questioned his companion at breakfast about the details of forging.
"The secret," the latter stated, "is—timber; wood, charcoal44. It's bound to turn up; fuel famine will come, unless it is provided against. That's where John Wooddrop's light. He counts on getting it as he goes. A furnace'll burn five or six thousand cords of wood every little while, and that means two hundred or more acres. Back of Harmony, here, are miles of timber the old man won't loose up right for. He calculates no one else can profit with them and takes his own time."
"What does Wooddrop own in the valleys?"
"Well—there's Sally Furnace; the Poole Sawmill tract45; the Medlar Forge and Blue Lump; the coal holes on Allen Mountain; Marta Furnace and Reeba Furnace—they ain't right hereabouts; the Lode46 Orebank; the Blossom Furnace and Charming Forges; Middle and Low Green Forges; the Ausp郼her Farm——"
"That will do," Hulings interrupted him moodily47; "I'm not an assessor."
Envy lashed48 his determination to surprising heights. Claypole grew uncommunicative, except for vague references to the Kingdom at hand and the dross49 of carnal desire. Finally, without a preparatory word, he strode away and disappeared over the rise toward the road. At supper he had not returned; there was no trace of him when, inundated50 with sleep, Hulings shut the dwelling for the night. All the following day Alexander Hulings expected his host; he spent the hours avidly51 studying the implements52 of forging; but the other did not appear. Neither did he the next day, nor the next.
Hulings, surprisingly happy, was entirely53 alone but for the hidden passage of wagons54 on the road and the multitudinous birds that inhabited the stream's edge, in the peaceful, increasing warmth of the days and nights. His condition slowly improved. He bought supplies at the packet station on the canal and shortly became as proficient56 at the stove as James Claypole. Through the day he sat in the mild sunlight or speculated among the implements of the forge. He visualized57 the process of iron making; the rough pigs, there were sows, too, he had gathered, lying outside the shed had come from the furnace. These were put into the hearths and melted, stirred perhaps; then—what were the wooden troughs for?—hammered, wrought58 on the anvil. Outside were other irregularly round pieces of iron, palpably closer in texture59 than the pig. The forging of them, he was certain, had been completed. There were, also, heavy bars, three feet in length, squared at each end.
Everything had been dropped apparently at the moment of James Claypole's absorbing view of another, transcending60 existence. Late in an afternoon—it was May—he heard footfalls descending61 from the road; with a sharp, unreasoning regret, he thought the other had returned. But it was a short, ungainly man with a purplish face and impressive shoulders. "Where's Jim?" he asked with a markedly German accent.
Alexander Hulings told him who he was and all he knew about Claypole.
"I'm Conrad Wishon," the newcomer stated, sinking heavily into a chair. "Did Jim speak of me—his head forgeman? No! But I guess he told you how he stopped the schnapps. Ha! James got religion. And he went away two weeks ago? Maybe he'll never be back. This"—he waved toward the forge—"means nothing to him.
"I live twenty miles up the road, and I saw a Glory-wagon55 coming on—an old Conestoga, with the Bible painted on the canvas, a traveling Shouter slapping the reins63, and a congregation of his family staring out the back. James would take up with a thing like that in a shot. Yes, sir; maybe now you will never see him again. And your mother's cousin! There's no other kin37 I've heard of; and I was with him longer than the rest."
Hulings listened with growing interest to the equable flow of Conrad Wishon's statements and mild surprise.
"Things have been bad with me," the smith continued. "My wife, she died Thursday before breakfast, and one thing and another. A son has charge of a coaling gang on Allen Mountain, but I'm too heavy for that; and I was going down to Green Forge when I thought I'd stop and see Jim. But, hell!—Jim's gone; like as not on the Glory-wagon. I can get a place at any hearth5," he declared pridefully. "I'm a good forger64; none better in Hamilton County. When it's shingling65 a loop I can show 'em all!"
"Have some supper," Alexander Hulings offered.
They sat late into the mild night, with the moonlight patterned like a grey carpet at their feet, talking about the smithing of iron. Conrad Wishon revealed the practical grasp of a life capably spent at a single task, and Hulings questioned him with an increasing comprehension.
"If you had money," Wishon explained, "we could do something right here. I'd like to work old Tubal Cain. I understand her."
The other asked: "How much would it take?"
Conrad Wishon spread out his hands hopelessly. "A lot; and then a creekful back of that! Soon as Wooddrop heard the hammer trip, he'd be around to close you down. Do it in a hundred ways—no teaming principally."
Hillings' antagonism66 to John Wooddrop increased perceptibly; he became obsessed67 by the fantastic thought of founding himself—Tubal Cain—triumphantly in the face of the established opposition68. But he had nothing—no money, knowledge, or even a robust69 person. Yet his will to succeed in the valleys hardened into a concrete aim.... Conrad Wishon would be invaluable70.
The latter stayed through the night and even lingered, after breakfast, into the morning. He was reluctant to leave the familiar scene of long toil71. They were sitting lost in discussion when the beat of horses' hoofs72 was arrested on the road, and a snapping of underbrush announced the appearance of a young man with a keen, authoritative73 countenance74.
"Mr. James Claypole?" he asked, addressing them collectively.
Alexander Hulings explained what he could of Claypole's absence.
"It probably doesn't matter," the other returned. "I was told the forge wasn't run, for some foolishness or other." He turned to go.
"What did you want with him—with Tubal Cain?" Conrad Wishon asked.
"Twenty-five tons of blooms."
"Now if this was ten years back——"
The young man interrupted the smith, with a gesture of impatience, and turned to go. Hulings asked Conrad Wishon swiftly:
"Could it be done here? Could the men be got? And what would it cost?"
"It could," said Wishon; "they might, and a thousand dollars would perhaps see it through." Hulings sharply called the retreating figure back. "Something more about this twenty-five tons," he demanded.
"For the Penn Rolling Mills," the other crisply replied. "We're asking for delivery in five weeks, but that might be extended a little—at, of course, a loss on the ton. The quality must be first grade."
Wishon grunted75.
"Young man," he said, "blooms I made would hardly need blistering76 to be called steel."
"I'm Philip Grere," the newcomer stated, "of Grere Brothers, and they're the Penn Rolling Mills. We want good blooms soon as possible and it seems there's almost none loose. If you can talk iron, immediate77 iron, let's get it on paper; if not, I have a long way to drive."
When he had gone Conrad Wishon sat staring, with mingled78 astonishment79 and admiration80, at Hulings.
"But," he protested, "you don't know nothing about it!"
"You do!" Alexander Hulings told him; he saw himself as a mind, of which Wishon formed the trained and powerful body.
"Perhaps Jim will come back," the elder man continued.
"That is a possibility," Alexander admitted. "But I am going to put every dollar I own into the chance of finishing those twenty-five tons."
The smith persisted: "But you don't know me; perhaps I'm a rascal81 and can't tell a puddling furnace from a chafery."
Hulings regarded him shrewdly.
"Conrad," he demanded, "can Tubal Cain do it?"
"By Goff," Wishon exclaimed, "she can!"
After an hour of close calculation Conrad Wishon rose with surprising agility82.
"I've got enough to do besides sitting here. Tubal Cain ought to have twenty men, anyhow; perhaps I can get eight. There's Mathias Slough83, a good hammerman. He broke an elbow at Charming, and Wooddrop won't have him back; but he can work still. Hance, a good nigger, is at my place, and there is another—Surrie. Haines Zer-bey, too, worked at refining, but you'll need to watch his rum. Perhaps Old Man Boeshore will lend a hand, and he's got a strapping84 grandson—Emanuel. Jeremiah Stell doesn't know much, but he'd let you cut a finger off for a dollar." He shook his head gravely. "That is a middling poor collection."
Alexander Hulings felt capable of operating Tubal Cain successfully with a shift of blind paralytics. A conviction of power, of vast capability85, possessed86 him. Suddenly he seemed to have become a part of the world that moved, of its creative energy; he was like a piece of machinery87 newly connected with the forceful driving whole. Conrad Wishon had promised to return the next day with the men he had enumerated88, and Alexander opened the small scattered89 buildings about the forge. There were, he found, sufficient living provisions for eight or ten men out of a moldering quantity of primitive90 bed furnishings, rusted91 tin, and cracked glass. But it was fortunate that the days were steadily92 growing warmer.
Wishon had directed him to clean out the channel of the forebay, and throughout the latter half of the day he was tearing heavy weeds from the interstices of the stones, laboring93 in a chill slime that soon completely covered him. He removed heavy rocks, matted dead bushes, banked mud; and after an hour he was cruelly, impossibly weary. He slipped and bruised94 a shoulder, cut open his cheek; but he impatiently spat95 out the blood trailing into his mouth, and continued working. His weariness became a hell of acute pain; without manual practice his movements were clumsy; he wasted what strength he had. Yet as his suffering increased he grew only more relentlessly96 methodical in the execution of his task. He picked out insignificant98 obstructions99, scraped away grass that offered no resistance to the water power. When he had finished, the forebay, striking in at an angle from the stream to the wheel, was meticulously100 clean.
He stumbled into his dwelling and fell on the bed, almost instantly asleep, without removing a garment, caked with filth101; and never stirred until the sun again flooded the room. He cooked and ravenously102 ate a tremendous breakfast, and then forced himself to walk the dusty miles that lay between Tubal Cain and the canal. His legs seemed to be totally without joints103, and his spine104 felt like a white-hot bar. At the store about which the insignificant village of Harmony clustered he ordered and paid for a great box of supplies, later carried by an obliging teamster and himself to the forge.
Once more there, he addressed himself to digging out the slag105 that had hardened in the hearths. The lightest bar soon became insuperably ponderous; ouit wabbled in his grasp, evaded106 his purpose. Vicious tears streamed over his blackened countenance, and he maintained a constant audible flow of bitter invective107. But even that arduous108 task was nearly accomplished109 when dark overtook him.
He stripped off his garments, dropping them where he stood, by the forge shed, and literally110 fell forward into the stream. The cold shock largely revived him, and he supped on huge tins of coffee and hard flitch. Immediately after, he dropped asleep as if he had been knocked unconscious by a club.
At mid-morning he heard a rattle111 of conveyance112 from the road and his name called. Above he found a wagon, without a top, filled with the sorriest collection of humanity he had ever viewed, and drawn113 by a dejected bony horse and a small wicked mule114.
"Here they are," Conrad Wishon announced; "and Hance brought along his girl to cook."
Mathias Slough, the hammerman, was thin and grey, as if his face were covered with cobwebs; Hance, Conrad's nigger, black as an iron bloom, was carrying upside down a squawking hen; Surrie, lighter115, had a dropped jaw116 and hands that hung below his knees; Haines Zerbey had pale, swimming eyes, and executed a salute117 with a battered flat beaver118 hat; Old Man Boeshore resembled a basin, bowed in at the stomach, his mouth sunken on toothless gums, but there was agility in his step; and Emanuel, his grandson, a towering hulk of youth, presented a facial expanse of mingled pimples119 and down. Jeremiah Stell was a small, shriveled man, with dead-white hair on a smooth, pinkish countenance.
Standing120 aside from the nondescript assemblage of men and transient garments, Alexander Hulings surveyed them with cold determination; two emotions possessed him—one of an almost humorous dismay at the slack figures on whom so much depended; and a second, stronger conviction that he could force his purpose even from them. They were, in a manner, his first command; his first material from which to build the consequence, the success, that he felt was his true expression.
He addressed a few brief periods to them; and there was no warmth, no effort to conciliate, in his tones, his dry statement of a heavy task for a merely adequate gain. He adopted this attitude instinctively121, without forethought; he was dimly conscious, as a principle, that underpaid men were more easily driven than those over-fully rewarded. And he intended to drive the men before him to the limit of their capability. They had no individual existence for Alexander Hulings, no humanity; they were merely the implements of a projection122 of his own; their names—Haines Zerbey, Slough—had no more significance than the terms bellows123 or tongs124.
They scattered to the few habitations by the stream, structures mostly of logs and plaster; and in a little while there rose the odorous smoke and sputtering125 fat of Hance's girl's cooking. Conrad Wishon soon started the labor11 of preparing the forge. Jeremiah Stell, who had some slight knowledge of carpentry, was directed to repair the plunger of the water-wind apparatus126. Slough was testing the beat and control of the trip hammer. Hance and Surrie carried outside the neglected heaps of iron hooks and tongs. Conrad explained to Alexander Hulings:
"I sent word to my son about the charcoal; he'll leave it at my place, but we shall have to haul it from there. Need another mule—maybe two. There's enough pig here to start, and my idea is to buy all we will need now at Blue Lump; they'll lend us a sled, so's we will have it in case old Wooddrop tries to clamp down on us. I'll go along this afternoon and see the head furnace man. It will take money."
Without hesitation127, Hulings put a considerable part of his entire small capital into the other's hand. At suppertime Conrad Wishon returned with the first load of metal for the Penn Rolling Mills contract.
Later Hance produced a wheezing128 accordion129 and, rocking on his feet, drew out long, wailing130 notes. He sang:
"Brothers, let us leave
Bukra Land for Hayti;
There we be receive
Grand as Lafayette"
"With changes of men," Conrad continued to Alexander Hulings, "the forges could run night and day, like customary. But with only one lot we'll have to sleep. Someone will stay up to tend the fires."
In the morning the labor of making the wrought blooms actually commenced. Conrad Wishon and Hance at one hearth, and Haines Zerbey with Sur-rie at the other, stood ceaselessly stirring, with long iron rods, the fluxing131 metal at the incandescent132 cores of the fires. Alexander then saw that the troughs of water were to cool the rapidly heating rods. Conrad Wishon was relentless97 in his insistence133 on long working of the iron. There were, already, muttered protests. "The dam' stuff was cooked an hour back!" But he drowned the objections in a surprising torrent134 of German-American cursing.
Hulings was outside the shed when he heard the first dull fall of the hammer; and it seemed to him that the sound had come from a sudden pounding of his expanded heart. He, Alexander Hulings, was making iron; his determination, his capability and will were hammering out of the stubborn raw material of earth a foothold for himself and a justification135! The smoke, pouring blackly, streaked136 with crimson137 sparks, from the forge shed, sifted138 a fine soot139 on the green-white flowers of a dogwood tree. A metallic140 clamor rose; and Emanuel, the youth, stripped to the waist and already smeared141 with sweat and grime, came out for a gulping142 breath of unsullied air.
The characteristics of the small force soon became evident. Conrad Wishon labored143 ceaselessly, with an unimpaired power at fifty apparent even to Alexander's intense self-absorption. Of the others, Hance, the negro, was easily the superior; his strength was Herculean, his willingness inexhaustible. Surrie was sullen144. Mathias Slough constantly grumbled145 at the meager146 provisions for his comfort and efforts; yet he was a skillful workman. When Alexander had correctly gauged147 Zer-bey's daily dram he, too, was useful; but the others were negligible. They made the motions of labor, but force was absent.
Alexander Hulings watched with narrowed eyes. When he was present the work in the shed notably148 improved; all the men except Conrad avoided his implacable gaze. He rarely addressed a remark to them; he seemed withdrawn149 from the operation that held so much for him. Conrad Wishon easily established his dexterity150 at "shingling a loop."
Working off a part of a melting sow, he secured it with wide-jawed shingling tongs; and, steadying the pulsating151 mass on an iron plate, he sledged152 it into a bloom. For ten hours daily the work continued, the hearths burned, the trip hammer fell and fell. The interior of the shed was a grimy shadow lighted with lurid flares153 and rose and gentian flowers of iron. Ruddy reflections slid over glistening154 shoulders and intent, bitter faces; harsh directions, voices, sounded like the grating of castings.
The oddly assorted155 team was dispatched for charcoal, and then sent with a load of blooms to the canal. Hance had to be spared, with Surrie, for that; the forge was short of labor, and Alexander Hulings joined Conrad in the working of the metal. It was, he found, exhausting toil. He was light and unskilled, and the mass on the hearth slipped continually from his stirring; or else it fastened, with a seeming spite, on his rod, and he was powerless to move it. Often he swung from his feet, straining in supreme156, wrenching157 effort. His body burned with fatigue158, his eyes were scorched159 by the heat of the fires; he lost count of days and nights: They merged160 imperceptibly one into another; he must have dreamed of his racking exertions161, for apparently they never ceased.
Alexander became indistinguishable from the others; all cleanness was forgotten; he ate in a stupefaction of weariness, securing with his fingers whatever was put before him. He was engaged in a struggle the end of which was hidden in the black smoke perpetually hanging over him; in the torment162 of the present, an inhuman163 suffering to which he was bound by a tryannical power outside his control, he lost all consciousness of the future.
The hammerman's injured arm prevented his working for two days, and Alexander Hulings cursed him in a stammering164 rage, before which the other was shocked and dumb. He drove Old Man Boeshore and his grandson with consideration for neither age nor youth; the elder complained endlessly, tears even slid over his corrugated165 face; the youth was brutally166 burned, but Hulings never relaxed his demands.
It was as if they had all been caught in a whirlpool, in which they fought vainly for release—the whirlpool of Alexander Hulings' domination. They whispered together, he heard fragments of intended revolt; but under his cold gaze, his thin, tight lips, they subsided167 uneasily. It was patent that they were abjectly168 afraid of him.... The blooms moved in a small but unbroken stream over the road to the canal.
He had neglected to secure other horses or mules169; and, while waiting for a load of iron on the rough track broken from the road to the forge, the horse slid to his knees, fell over, dead—the last ounce of effort wrung170 from his angular frame. The mule, with his ears perpetually laid back and a raised lip, seemed impervious171 to fatigue; his spirit, his wickedness, persisted in the face of appalling172 toil. The animal's name, Hulings knew, was Alexander; he overheard Hance explaining this to Old Man Boeshore:
"That mule's bound to be Alexander; ain't nobody but an Alexander work like that mule! He's bad too; he'd lay you cold and go right on about his business."
Old Man Boeshore muttered something excessively bitter about the name Alexander.
"If you sh'd ask me," he stated, "I'd tell you that he ain't human. He's got a red light in his eye, like——"
Hulings gathered that this was not still directed at the mule.
More than half of the order for the Penn Rolling Mills had been executed and lay piled by the canal. He calculated the probable time still required, the amount he would unavoidably lose through the delay of faulty equipment and insufficient173 labor. If James Claypole came back now, he thought, and attempted interference, he would commit murder. It was evening, and he was seated listlessly, with his chair tipped back against the dwelling he shared with Conrad Wishon. The latter, close by, was bowed forward, his head, with a silvery gleam of faded hair, sunk on his breast. A catbird was whistling an elaborate and poignant174 song, and the invisible stream passed with a faint, choked whisper.
"We're going to have trouble with that girl of Hance's," Wishon pronounced suddenly; "she has taken to meeting Surrie in the woods. If Hance comes on them there will be wet knives!"
Such mishaps175, Alexander Hulings knew, were an acute menace to his success. The crippling or loss of Hance might easily prove fatal to his hopes; the negro, immensely powerful, equable, and willing, was of paramount176 importance.
"I'll stop that!" he declared. But the trouble developed before he had time to intervene.
He came on the two negroes the following morning, facing each other, with, as Conrad had predicted, drawn knives. Hance stood still; but Sur-rie, with bent177 knees and the point of his steel almost brushing the grass, moved about the larger man. Hulings at once threw himself between them.
"What damned nonsense's this?" he demanded. "Get back to the team, Hance, and you, Surrie, drop your knife!"
The former was on the point of obeying, when Surrie ran in with a sweeping178 hand. Alexander Hulings jumped forward in a cold fury and felt a sudden numbing179 slice across his cheek. He had a dim consciousness of blood smearing180 his shoulder; but all his energy was directed on the stooped figure falling away from his glittering rage.
"Get out!" he directed in a thin, evil voice. "If you are round here in ten minutes I'll blow a hole through your skull181!"
Surrie was immediately absorbed by the underbrush.
Hulings had a long diagonal cut from his brow across and under his ear. It bled profusely182, and as his temper receded faintness dimmed his vision. Conrad Wishon blotted183 the wound with cobwebs; a cloth, soon stained, was bound about Alexander's head, and after dinner he was again in the forge, whipping the flagging efforts of his men with a voice like a thin leather thong184. If the labor were delayed, he recognized, the contract would not be filled. The workmen were wearing out, like the horse. He moved young Emanuel to the hauling with Hance, the wagon now drawn by three mules. The hammerman's injured arm had grown inflamed185, and he was practically one-handed in his management of the trip hammer.
While carrying a lump of iron to the anvil the staggering, ill-assorted group with the tongs dropped their burden, and stood gazing stupidly at the fallen, glowing mass. They were hardly revived by Hulings' lashing186 scorn. He had increased Haines Zerbey's daily dram, but the drunkard was now practically useless. Jeremiah Stell contracted an intermittent187 fever; and, though he still toiled188 in the pursuit of his coveted189 wage, he was of doubtful value.
Alexander Hulings' body had become as hard as Conrad's knotted forearm. He ate huge amounts of half-cooked pork, washed hastily down by tin cups of black coffee, and fell into instant slumber190 when the slightest opportunity offered. His face was matted by an unkempt beard; his hands, the pale hands of an Eastlake lawyer, were black, like Hance's, with palms of leather. He surveyed himself with curious amusement in a broken fragment of looking-glass nailed to the wall; the old Hulings, pursued by inchoate191 dread, had vanished.... In his place was Alexander Hu-lings, a practical iron man! He repeated the descriptive phrase aloud, with an accent of arrogant192 pride. Later, with an envelope from the Penn Rolling Mills, he said it again, with even more confidence; he held the pay for the blooms which he had-it seemed in another existence—promised to deliver.
He stood leaning on a tree before the forge; within, Conrad Wishon and Hance were piling the metal hooks with sharp, ringing echoes. All the others had vanished magically, at once, as if from an exhausted193 spell. Old Man Boeshore had departed with a piping implication, supported by Emanuel, his grandson.
Alexander Hulings was reviewing his material situation. It was three hundred and thirty dollars better than it had been on his arrival at Tubal Cain. In addition to that he had a new store of confidence, of indomitable pride, vanity, a more actual support. He gazed with interest toward the near future, and with no little doubt. It was patent that he could not proceed as he had begun; such combinations could not be forced a second time. He intended to remain at James Claypole's forge, conducting it as though it were his own—for the present, anyhow—but he should have to get an efficient working body; and many additions were necessary—among them a blacksmith shop. He had, with Conrad Wishon, the conviction that Clay-pole would not return.
More capital would be necessary. He was revolving this undeniable fact when, through the lush June foliage194, he saw an open carriage turn from the road and descend62 to the forge clearing. It held an erect195, trimly whiskered form and a negro driver. The former was John Wooddrop. He gazed with surprise, that increased to a recognition, a memory, of Alexander Hulings.
"Jim Claypole?" he queried196.
"Not here," Hulings replied, even more laconically197.
"Nonsense! I'm told he's been running Tubal Cain again. Say to him—and I've no time to dawdle—that John Wooddrop's here."
"Well, Claypole's not," the other repeated. "He's away. I'm running this forge—Alexander Hulings."
Wooddrop's mouth drew into a straight hard line from precise whisker to whisker. "I have been absent," he said finally. It was palpably an explanation, almost an excuse. Conrad Wishon appeared from within the forge shed. "Ah, Conrad!" John Wooddrop ejaculated pleasantly.
"Glad to find you at the hearth again. Come and see me in the morning."
"I think I'll stay here," the forgeman replied, "now Tubal Cain's working."
"Then, in a week or so," the Ironmaster answered imperturbably198.
All Alexander Hulings' immaterial dislike of Wooddrop solidified199 into a concrete, vindictive200 enmity. He saw the beginning of a long, bitter, stirring struggle.
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revolving
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ponderous
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anvil
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hearth
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piston
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cylinder
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dwelling
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labor
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laboriously
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battered
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Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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15
perusal
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| n.细读，熟读；目测 | |
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16
passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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17
ass
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| n.驴；傻瓜，蠢笨的人 | |
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18
utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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19
fragrant
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| adj.芬香的，馥郁的，愉快的 | |
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20
twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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21
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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22
impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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23
annoyance
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| n.恼怒，生气，烦恼 | |
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24
ripened
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| v.成熟，使熟( ripen的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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25
stationary
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| adj.固定的，静止不动的 | |
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26
lurid
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| adj.可怕的；血红的；苍白的 | |
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27
instinctive
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| adj.(出于)本能的；直觉的；(出于)天性的 | |
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28
disparagement
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| n.轻视，轻蔑 | |
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29
accomplishments
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| n.造诣；完成( accomplishment的名词复数 )；技能；成绩；成就 | |
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30
refinements
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| n.（生活）风雅；精炼( refinement的名词复数 )；改良品；细微的改良；优雅或高贵的动作 | |
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31
conflagration
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| n.建筑物或森林大火 | |
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32
brutal
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| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
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33
noxious
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| adj.有害的，有毒的；使道德败坏的，讨厌的 | |
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34
beetles
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| n.甲虫( beetle的名词复数 ) | |
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35
miraculous
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| adj.像奇迹一样的，不可思议的 | |
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36
cape
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| n.海角，岬；披肩，短披风 | |
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37
kin
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| n.家族，亲属，血缘关系；adj.亲属关系的，同类的 | |
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38
drenched
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| adj.湿透的；充满的v.使湿透( drench的过去式和过去分词 )；在某人（某物）上大量使用（某液体） | |
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39
collapsed
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| adj.倒塌的 | |
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40
swirling
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| v.旋转，打旋( swirl的现在分词 ) | |
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41
anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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42
dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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43
receded
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| v.逐渐远离( recede的过去式和过去分词 )；向后倾斜；自原处后退或避开别人的注视；尤指问题 | |
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44
charcoal
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| n.炭，木炭，生物炭 | |
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45
tract
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| n.传单，小册子，大片(土地或森林) | |
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46
lode
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| n.矿脉 | |
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47
moodily
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| adv.喜怒无常地；情绪多变地；心情不稳地；易生气地 | |
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48
lashed
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| adj.具睫毛的v.鞭打( lash的过去式和过去分词 )；煽动；紧系；怒斥 | |
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49
dross
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| n.渣滓；无用之物 | |
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50
inundated
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| v.淹没( inundate的过去式和过去分词 )；（洪水般地）涌来；充满；给予或交予（太多事物）使难以应付 | |
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51
avidly
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| adv.渴望地，热心地 | |
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52
implements
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| n.工具( implement的名词复数 )；家具；手段；[法律]履行（契约等）v.实现( implement的第三人称单数 )；执行；贯彻；使生效 | |
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53
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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54
wagons
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| n.四轮的运货马车( wagon的名词复数 )；铁路货车；小手推车 | |
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55
wagon
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| n.四轮马车，手推车，面包车；无盖运货列车 | |
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56
proficient
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|
| adj.熟练的，精通的；n.能手，专家 | |
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57
visualized
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| 直观的，直视的 | |
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58
wrought
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| v.引起；以…原料制作；运转；adj.制造的 | |
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59
texture
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| n.(织物)质地；(材料)构造；结构；肌理 | |
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60
transcending
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| 超出或超越（经验、信念、描写能力等）的范围( transcend的现在分词 )； 优于或胜过… | |
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61
descending
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| n. 下行 adj. 下降的 | |
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62
descend
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| vt./vi.传下来，下来，下降 | |
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63
reins
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| 感情，激情； 缰( rein的名词复数 )； 控制手段； 掌管； （成人带着幼儿走路以防其走失时用的）保护带 | |
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64
forger
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| v.伪造；n.（钱、文件等的）伪造者 | |
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65
shingling
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| 压挤熟铁块，叠瓦作用 | |
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66
antagonism
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| n.对抗，敌对，对立 | |
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67
obsessed
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| adj.心神不宁的,鬼迷心窍的,沉迷的 | |
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68
opposition
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|
| n.反对，敌对 | |
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69
robust
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|
| adj.强壮的，强健的，粗野的，需要体力的，浓的 | |
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70
invaluable
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|
| adj.无价的，非常宝贵的，极为贵重的 | |
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71
toil
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|
| vi.辛劳工作，艰难地行动；n.苦工，难事 | |
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72
hoofs
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|
| n.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的名词复数 )v.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的第三人称单数 ) | |
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73
authoritative
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|
| adj.有权威的，可相信的；命令式的；官方的 | |
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74
countenance
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|
| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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75
grunted
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|
| （猪等）作呼噜声( grunt的过去式和过去分词 )； （指人）发出类似的哼声； 咕哝着说 | |
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76
blistering
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|
| adj.酷热的；猛烈的；使起疱的；可恶的v.起水疱；起气泡；使受暴晒n.[涂料] 起泡 | |
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77
immediate
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|
| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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78
mingled
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|
| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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79
astonishment
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|
| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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80
admiration
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|
| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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81
rascal
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| n.流氓；不诚实的人 | |
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82
agility
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|
| n.敏捷，活泼 | |
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83
slough
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| v.蜕皮，脱落，抛弃 | |
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84
strapping
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|
| adj. 魁伟的, 身材高大健壮的 n. 皮绳或皮带的材料, 裹伤胶带, 皮鞭 动词strap的现在分词形式 | |
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85
capability
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|
| n.能力；才能；(pl)可发展的能力或特性等 | |
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86
possessed
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|
| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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87
machinery
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|
| n.(总称)机械，机器；机构 | |
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88
enumerated
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|
| v.列举，枚举，数( enumerate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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89
scattered
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|
| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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90
primitive
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|
| adj.原始的；简单的；n.原(始)人，原始事物 | |
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91
rusted
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| v.（使）生锈( rust的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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92
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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93
laboring
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|
| n.劳动，操劳v.努力争取(for)( labor的现在分词 )；苦干；详细分析；（指引擎）缓慢而困难地运转 | |
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94
bruised
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| [医]青肿的，瘀紫的 | |
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95
spat
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|
| n.口角，掌击；v.发出呼噜呼噜声 | |
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96
relentlessly
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|
| adv.不屈不挠地；残酷地；不间断 | |
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97
relentless
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| adj.残酷的，不留情的，无怜悯心的 | |
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98
insignificant
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|
| adj.无关紧要的，可忽略的，无意义的 | |
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99
obstructions
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|
| n.障碍物( obstruction的名词复数 )；阻碍物；阻碍；阻挠 | |
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100
meticulously
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|
| adv.过细地，异常细致地；无微不至；精心 | |
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101
filth
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| n.肮脏，污物，污秽；淫猥 | |
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102
ravenously
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| adv.大嚼地，饥饿地 | |
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103
joints
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| 接头( joint的名词复数 )； 关节； 公共场所（尤指价格低廉的饮食和娱乐场所） （非正式）； 一块烤肉 （英式英语） | |
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104
spine
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| n.脊柱，脊椎；(动植物的)刺；书脊 | |
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105
slag
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|
| n.熔渣，铁屑，矿渣；v.使变成熔渣，变熔渣 | |
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106
evaded
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| 逃避( evade的过去式和过去分词 )； 避开； 回避； 想不出 | |
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107
invective
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| n.痛骂，恶意抨击 | |
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108
arduous
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| adj.艰苦的，费力的，陡峭的 | |
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109
accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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110
literally
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| adv.照字面意义，逐字地；确实 | |
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111
rattle
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|
| v.飞奔，碰响；激怒；n.碰撞声；拨浪鼓 | |
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112
conveyance
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| n.(不动产等的)转让，让与；转让证书；传送；运送；表达；（正）运输工具 | |
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113
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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114
mule
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| n.骡子，杂种，执拗的人 | |
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115
lighter
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| n.打火机，点火器；驳船；v.用驳船运送；light的比较级 | |
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116
jaw
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| n.颚，颌，说教，流言蜚语；v.喋喋不休，教训 | |
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117
salute
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| vi.行礼，致意，问候，放礼炮；vt.向…致意，迎接，赞扬；n.招呼，敬礼，礼炮 | |
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118
beaver
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| n.海狸，河狸 | |
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119
pimples
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| n.丘疹，粉刺，小脓疱( pimple的名词复数 ) | |
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120
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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121
instinctively
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| adv.本能地 | |
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122
projection
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| n.发射，计划，突出部分 | |
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123
bellows
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| n.风箱；发出吼叫声，咆哮（尤指因痛苦）( bellow的名词复数 )；（愤怒地）说出（某事），大叫v.发出吼叫声，咆哮（尤指因痛苦）( bellow的第三人称单数 )；（愤怒地）说出（某事），大叫 | |
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124
tongs
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| n.钳；夹子 | |
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125
sputtering
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| n.反应溅射法；飞溅；阴极真空喷镀；喷射v.唾沫飞溅( sputter的现在分词 )；发劈啪声；喷出；飞溅出 | |
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126
apparatus
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| n.装置，器械；器具，设备 | |
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127
hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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128
wheezing
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| v.喘息，发出呼哧呼哧的喘息声( wheeze的现在分词 )；哮鸣 | |
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129
accordion
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| n.手风琴；adj.可折叠的 | |
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130
wailing
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| v.哭叫，哀号( wail的现在分词 )；沱 | |
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131
fluxing
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| 稀释，冲淡； 造渣； 熔解； 增塑 | |
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132
incandescent
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| adj.遇热发光的， 白炽的，感情强烈的 | |
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133
insistence
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| n.坚持；强调；坚决主张 | |
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134
torrent
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| n.激流，洪流；爆发，(话语等的)连发 | |
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135
justification
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| n.正当的理由；辩解的理由 | |
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136
streaked
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| adj.有条斑纹的，不安的v.快速移动( streak的过去式和过去分词 )；使布满条纹 | |
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137
crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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138
sifted
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| v.筛( sift的过去式和过去分词 )；筛滤；细查；详审 | |
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139
soot
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| n.煤烟，烟尘；vt.熏以煤烟 | |
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140
metallic
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| adj.金属的；金属制的；含金属的；产金属的；像金属的 | |
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141
smeared
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| 弄脏； 玷污； 涂抹； 擦上 | |
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142
gulping
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| v.狼吞虎咽地吃，吞咽( gulp的现在分词 )；大口地吸（气）；哽住 | |
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143
labored
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| adj.吃力的，谨慎的v.努力争取(for)( labor的过去式和过去分词 )；苦干；详细分析；（指引擎）缓慢而困难地运转 | |
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144
sullen
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| adj.愠怒的，闷闷不乐的，(天气等)阴沉的 | |
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145
grumbled
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| 抱怨( grumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 发牢骚； 咕哝； 发哼声 | |
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146
meager
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| adj.缺乏的，不足的，瘦的 | |
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147
gauged
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| adj.校准的；标准的；量规的；量计的v.（用仪器）测量( gauge的过去式和过去分词 )；估计；计量；划分 | |
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148
notably
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| adv.值得注意地，显著地，尤其地，特别地 | |
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149
withdrawn
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| vt.收回；使退出；vi.撤退，退出 | |
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150
dexterity
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| n.(手的)灵巧，灵活 | |
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151
pulsating
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| adj.搏动的，脉冲的v.有节奏地舒张及收缩( pulsate的现在分词 )；跳动；脉动；受（激情）震动 | |
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152
sledged
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| v.乘雪橇( sledge的过去式和过去分词 )；用雪橇运载 | |
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153
flares
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| n.喇叭裤v.（使）闪耀( flare的第三人称单数 )；（使）（船舷）外倾；（使）鼻孔张大；（使）（衣裙、酒杯等）呈喇叭形展开 | |
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154
glistening
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| adj.闪耀的，反光的v.湿物闪耀，闪亮( glisten的现在分词 ) | |
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155
assorted
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| adj.各种各样的，各色俱备的 | |
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156
supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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157
wrenching
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| n.修截苗根，苗木铲根（铲根时苗木不起土或部分起土）v.（猛力地）扭( wrench的现在分词 )；扭伤；使感到痛苦；使悲痛 | |
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158
fatigue
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| n.疲劳，劳累 | |
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159
scorched
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| 烧焦，烤焦( scorch的过去式和过去分词 )； 使（植物）枯萎，把…晒枯； 高速行驶； 枯焦 | |
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160
merged
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| （使）混合( merge的过去式和过去分词 )； 相融； 融入； 渐渐消失在某物中 | |
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161
exertions
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| n.努力( exertion的名词复数 )；费力；（能力、权力等的）运用；行使 | |
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162
torment
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| n.折磨；令人痛苦的东西(人)；vt.折磨；纠缠 | |
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163
inhuman
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| adj.残忍的，不人道的，无人性的 | |
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164
stammering
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| v.结巴地说出( stammer的现在分词 ) | |
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165
corrugated
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| adj.波纹的；缩成皱纹的；波纹面的；波纹状的v.（使某物）起皱褶(corrugate的过去式和过去分词) | |
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166
brutally
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| adv.残忍地，野蛮地，冷酷无情地 | |
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167
subsided
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| v.（土地）下陷（因在地下采矿）( subside的过去式和过去分词 )；减弱；下降至较低或正常水平；一下子坐在椅子等上 | |
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168
abjectly
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| 凄惨地； 绝望地； 糟透地； 悲惨地 | |
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169
mules
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| 骡( mule的名词复数 )； 拖鞋； 顽固的人； 越境运毒者 | |
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170
wrung
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| 绞( wring的过去式和过去分词 )； 握紧（尤指别人的手）； 把（湿衣服）拧干； 绞掉（水） | |
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171
impervious
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| adj.不能渗透的，不能穿过的，不易伤害的 | |
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172
appalling
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| adj.骇人听闻的，令人震惊的，可怕的 | |
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173
insufficient
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| adj.(for，of)不足的，不够的 | |
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174
poignant
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| adj.令人痛苦的，辛酸的，惨痛的 | |
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175
mishaps
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| n.轻微的事故，小的意外( mishap的名词复数 ) | |
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176
paramount
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| a.最重要的，最高权力的 | |
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177
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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178
sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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179
numbing
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| adj.使麻木的，使失去感觉的v.使麻木，使麻痹( numb的现在分词 ) | |
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180
smearing
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| 污点，拖尾效应 | |
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181
skull
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| n.头骨；颅骨 | |
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182
profusely
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| ad.abundantly | |
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183
blotted
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| 涂污( blot的过去式和过去分词 )； （用吸墨纸）吸干 | |
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184
thong
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| n.皮带；皮鞭；v.装皮带 | |
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185
inflamed
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| adj.发炎的，红肿的v.（使）变红，发怒，过热( inflame的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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186
lashing
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| n.鞭打；痛斥；大量；许多v.鞭打( lash的现在分词 )；煽动；紧系；怒斥 | |
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187
intermittent
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| adj.间歇的，断断续续的 | |
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188
toiled
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| 长时间或辛苦地工作( toil的过去式和过去分词 )； 艰难缓慢地移动，跋涉 | |
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189
coveted
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| adj.令人垂涎的；垂涎的，梦寐以求的v.贪求，觊觎(covet的过去分词)；垂涎；贪图 | |
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190
slumber
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| n.睡眠，沉睡状态 | |
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191
inchoate
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| adj.才开始的，初期的 | |
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192
arrogant
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| adj.傲慢的，自大的 | |
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193
exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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194
foliage
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| n.叶子，树叶，簇叶 | |
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195
erect
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| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
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196
queried
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| v.质疑，对…表示疑问( query的过去式和过去分词 )；询问 | |
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197
laconically
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| adv.简短地，简洁地 | |
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198
imperturbably
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| adv.泰然地，镇静地，平静地 | |
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199
solidified
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| （使）成为固体，（使）变硬，（使）变得坚固( solidify的过去式和过去分词 )； 使团结一致； 充实，巩固； 具体化 | |
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200
vindictive
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| adj.有报仇心的，怀恨的，惩罚的 | |
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