Thus, with the shouts and laughter of the spectators ringing in his ears,
Jack stooped for a second attempt to accomplish what no one else had ever
been able to do.

"I'll grunt for you!" called Offut in derision. "Spit on your hands!" said
a workman. Jack compressed his lips for a mighty effort, and his hands
closed on the rim of the wheel, while he concentrated every atom of
strength he had for the herculean task.

The cries of the onlookers suddenly stopped as they saw, to their
amazement, the ponderous object rise from the floor, slowly but surely,
until the young workman held it abreast of him. Not a sound broke the
deathlike stillness, save for the crunching of his own footsteps, as Jack
North walked across the shop and dropped his burden upon the wheel Mires
had placed there.

A loud crash succeeded, the heavy iron wheel having broken the imitation
into kindling wood and smashed into the floor.

The cries of derision were supplemented by loud calls of admiration, which
rang through and through the old building until a perfect din prevailed.

Fret Offut waited to see no more, but stole away unobserved by the
stalwart iron workers, who crowded around their victorious companion with
hearty congratulations. Jack had won the friendship of nearly all by his
feat, while Henshaw at once boasted of the act.

Mires, fancying that the laugh had been turned upon him, and he was about
right, allowed all of the bitterness of his sullen nature to be turned
against the young apprentice. In his wicked heart he vowed he would