Cinder Path Tales

THE HOLLOW HAMMER 29 start. The noise came frombehind thehigh fence which shut in the iron-works yard, and I could not make out what it meant until I reached the opengate andlooked in. It was the noon hour, andthere werea lot of men lounging about,eating from their tin pails, smoking short black pipes, anddoing whatever elsethey fancied. The yardwas as level and smooth as a tennis-court, but with­ out the least sign of turf except along the fence and fringing the foundation-stones of the foundry building. The noisecame froma crowd of workmen, clustered togethernot far from the huge door. A row of them sat on the groundwith their backs against the wall, and there were a dozen or more standingtogether in a bunch. These were mostly the younger men, who, not content with five hours' work since sun­ rise, were having a friendly test of strength in putting the shot. They were using for the purpose an old cannon-ball, whichmust have weighed a bit over the sixteen pounds bythe sizeof it. Cannon-balls were plenty in those days, for the war was not many years over. Now, there is always omething interesting to me in the sport of a lot of workingmen. They take a bit of a lark with all the more heartiness because they do not have too