Cinder Path Tales

THE HOLLOW HAMMER I T was on a June day back in the late "sixties" that I first saw Angus Mac­ Leod, the heroof my story of "The Hollow Hammer." I had given a boxing-lesson to a little jeweller in South Bostonwho was burdened with a pugilistic ambition, and was walking leisurely homeward, enjoying the fine weather and the exercise in the open air. As I sauntered along at an easy pace, with my eyes wanderinghere andthere, something in the day or the neighborhood reminded me of the "Old Country," and particularly the ancient townof Bury, I think it must have been the sightof the iron-foundry down the street, with the flames streaming from its chimneys. I know Iwas harking back to almost for­ gotten scenes, and old acquaintances who had doubtless long ago forgotten me (ex­ cepting one, perhaps), when a chorus of rough voices brought me to myself with a