Now the general toil commences in every corner of the smithy. The brawny forger pulls, tugs, or pushes the heavy porter; the stamper runs out with his white-hot bar, spluttering and hissing, and poises one foot on the treadle while he adjusts it over the die, then _Pum-tchu, pom-tchu, ping-tchu, ping-tchu_, goes the hammer, and over he turns it deftly, blows away the scale and excrescence with the compressed air, and _pom-tchu, ping-tchu_, again replies the hammer. Here he claps the forging in the trimmer, click goes the self-act, and down comes the tool. The finished article drops through on to the ground; the stamper thrusts the bar into the furnace, turns on more oil and off he goes again. The sparks swish and fly everywhere, travelling to the furthest wall; he wipes away the sweat with the blistered back of his hand, looking half-asleep, and rolls the quid of tobacco in his cheek.
Hard by the smith is busy with his forge and tools. His mate is ghastly pale and thin in the yellow firelight, though he himself looks fat and well. He sets the blast on gently till the iron is nearly fit, then applies the whole volume, to put on the finishing touch and make the iron soft and “mellow.” This lifts up the white cinders in clouds and blows them out of the front also, so that now and then they lodge on the blacksmith’s arms and in his hair, but he shakes them off and takes little notice of them. He jerks the jumper up and down once or twice, turns the heat round quickly, then shuts off the blast, and with a lion-like grip of the tongs, brings it to the anvil and lays on with his hand-hammer, while his mate plies the sledge. Presently he throws down his hammer, grips the “set tool” or “flatter,” and his mate continues to strike upon it till the work is completed. If the striker is not proficient and misses once or twice, he jerks out, in a friendly tone--“On the top, or go home,” or, “Go and get some chalk”--_i.e._, to whiten the tool--or, “Follow the tool, follow the tool, you okkerd fella.” Once, when a smith had a strange mate--a raw hand--with him, and bade him to “Follow the tool,” when he put that down the striker continued to go for it till it flew up and nearly knocked out the smith’s eye, but he excused himself on the ground that he thought he had to “follow the tool.”