Shepherdstown register. [volume] (Shepherdstown, Va. [W. Va.]) 1849-1955, 1906-07-26

desk, who smiled broadly. IRen ne
turned quickly back to Mr.. White.
"Did you notice big pile of shells.
iron shells, under the shed in the yardS
want EN- broken up If you re
man enough for the job it'll keep you
busy for two or three days. Go to
the blacksmith shop and get a sledge.
They'll show you where the shells
are"
AS he finished, McNichol looked up
smiling openly. 1t was not exactly
the sort of smile that you might
have expected in the circumstances.
1t went ill with the tremulous eager
ness of the other mans gratitude.
You have seen such smile, perhaps,
over a rather cruel practical joke, and
you might have supposed it was some
snch thing he offered, instead of a
benevolent chance to earn dollar a
day.
In the blacksmith shop the request
for a sledge seemed to be familiar
one. A quick look of intelligence
passed between the smith and his
helper. The latter grinned little,
but the older man looked grave.
"Not that sledge, JIM" he COM
manded, sharply. "The light one
yonder. It'll serve as well'-he
smiled family himself-"and guess
it's as heavy as our friend here is used
to swinging. Look alive now and
show him where the shells are. "
As they went out he turned back
to his work. "The black. hearted old
rascal, he murmured.
"Well," said the helper, when he
had returned to the anvil, "McNichol
may see the joke to that, but l can't
say 1 do. 1t was different with the
chap we put at it yesterday, big,
twofsted begger like him ! He bang
ed away like good one, and the
thingshe said we're rich to hear. But
this little old gentleman-he's all
scrooched over, tapping away as if he
was trying to chop kindling. with a
hatchet. He won't last more than
ten minutes.
The shell that Mr.. White had begun
upon was, except in point of size, like
all the others, a hollow, cast-iron
sphere about eight inches in diameter,
with one small hole in it: the sort of
Shell that in the old days was filled
with gunpowder and fired out of a
smooth bored cannon. 1t was empty
now, of course, and hearing the hollow
ring and noticing the thinness Of it,
you would have expected it to crunch
under the impact of the sledge like an
egg-shell at tap Of the spoon. That,
at least, is what Mr.. White expected.
His first gentle taps merely glanced
off the founded surface. When he
struck harder the shell lazi'y rolled
away. He tried to hold it with his
foot, and narrowly escaped crushing |
that member without damaging the
shell in the least. At last he settled |
1t into a hole in the pavement that
held it firmly, and struck with all his
might-still with no effect whatever.
Then he tried one or two others from
the heap. Evidently they were all
alike.
He might reasonably have quit then
we'll within the ten minutes the black.
smiths helper had allowed him. He
had exerted his utmost force, and ap-
parently if he had had twice as much
it would still be less than enough.
But he kept on striking laboriously,
with the blind patience of dispair.
The noon whistle blew, and from
shop and foundry the men struggled
out towards the gate. Some stopped
to look and laugh, some flung out jo-
cose comment in pasring, maGy did
did not look at all. The spectacle
was familiar one to them. Still the
elderly man swung the heavy sledge.
When he stopped there would be
nothing to do but take up again the
dreary hopeless search for work.
He turned about presently at
touch on the elbow, and saw the smith
standing beside him.
"It's no use," he said. You may
as well quit. l can't break these
shells myself, and my big helper cont,
either. We've tried again and again,
for fun. 1t looks easy, but it can't be
done. If you could get crack at
them from the inside you might do
something, but not this may. Not in
a thousand years"
Mr.. White dropped the sledge. His
tired, hopeless eyes looked bewildered.
Then why did he set me to work at