"That's like you," cried Bremner, who, being one of the principal
masons, had to attend chiefly to the digging out of the
foundation-pit of the building, and knew that his tools could not be
sharpened unless the forge fire could be lighted.

"Suppose you hammer a nail red-hot," suggested one of the men, who
was disposed to make game of the smith.

"I'll hammer your nose red-hot," replied Dove, with a most undovelike
scowl, "I could swear that I put them matches in my pocket before I
started."

"No, you didn't," said George Forsyth, one of the carpenters--a tall
loose-jointed man, who was chiefly noted for his dislike to getting
into and out of boats, and climbing up the sides of ships, because of
his lengthy and unwieldy figure--"No, you didn't, you turtle-dove,
you forgot to take them; but I remembered to do it for you; so there,
get up your fire, and confess yourself indebted to me for life."

"I'm indebted to 'ee for fire," said the smith, grasping the matches
eagerly. "Thank'ee, lad, you're a true Briton."

"A tall 'un, rather," suggested Bremner.

"Wot never, never, never will be a slave," sang another of the men.

"Come, laddies, git up the fire. Time an' tide waits for naebody,"
said John Watt, one of the quarriers. "We'll want thae tools before
lang."