Clare slept too after a while, but the necessities of his relation to
Tommy were fast making a man of him.



Chapter XXII.

The smith in a rage.


They had not slept long, when they were roused by a hideous clamour
and rattling at the door, and thunderous blows on the wooden sides of
the shed. Clare woke first, and rubbed his eyelids, whose hinges were
rusted with sleep. He was utterly perplexed with the uproar and
romage. The cabin seemed enveloped in a hurricane of kicks, and the
air was in a tumult of howling and brawling, of threats and curses,
whose inarticulateness made them sound bestial. There never came pause
long enough for Clare to answer that they were locked in, and that the
smith must have the key in his pocket. But when Tommy came to himself,
which he generally did the instant he woke, but not so quickly this
time because of his fall, he understood at once.

"It's the blacksmith! He's roaring drunk!" he said.

"Let's be off, Clare! The devil 'ill be to pay when he gets in! He'll
murder us in our beds!"

"We ought to let him into his own house if we can," replied Clare,
rising and going to the door. It was well for him that he found no way