So one fine day I dropped the hammer after
watchin' him make a botch on a big bar, and cussed him up one leg and
down the other. The Scotchman had a hangover from the night before and
he made a pass at me. It was too much for me just then, for the day
was hot and the forge fire had been spitting cinders in my face all
morning. So I took him by the throat."
He reached out and closed his taut fingers slowly.
"I didn't mean nothin' by it, but after a man has been moldin' iron,
flesh is pretty weak stuff. When I let go of Scotchy he dropped on the
floor, and while I stood starin' down at him somebody seen what had
happened and spread the word.
"I wasn't none too popular, bein' not much on talk, so the boys got
together and pretty soon they come pilin' through the door at me,
packin' everything from hatchets to crowbars.
"Lads, I was sorry about Scotchy, but after I glimpsed that gang
comin' I wasn't sorry for nothing. I felt like singin', though there
wasn't no song that could say just what I meant. But I grabbed up the
big fourteen-pound hammer and met 'em halfway.
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