"Honest Injun. He was over at your desk when we were sweeping the chimney, and the fact is, he got a mouthful of soot and went away fuming." "I’d never have believed it, and him a chapel member," said Mr. Trenchard. "Don’t ’ee go for to anger Mr. Noakes, sir, med I beseech ’ee." "All right. I dare say he’ll keep out of our way. Of course, if he’s a friend of yours——" "I wouldn’t say that, sir, but as the Book do say, ’as much as lieth in you, be at peace wi’ all men.’" "Jolly good idea! If the other chap won’t be at peace with you, then you must go for him. Splendid!" After tea they made their first trial at smoke production. Placing a layer of soot on each of the trays, with a couple of fire-lighters in the midst, they lit some straw soaked in paraffin, poked it through the holes, and began to treadle the machine round the yard, the farmer and his wife looking on at the door. A considerable volume of smoke poured out of the tank, but when they pulled up, Mr. Trenchard said: "’Tis a noble beginning, to be sure; but I own, so to speak, I could allers see that there tank through the smother, and if I understand your true meaning, that hadn’t oughter be." "Quite right," said Templeton. "We want more of a draught, Tom. Larger holes and greater speed." "Righto!" said Eves. "Will you chisel the holes larger? Then we might start on a real cruise—down the hill to the village, say. You can’t work up much speed in the yard. What do you think of it, Mrs. Trenchard?" "I know why my chimney wanted sweeping so bad, Mr. Eves. Ay sure, ye’re just as full of mischief as my Joe." Half an hour’s work with a chisel and hammer sufficed to enlarge the holes. They then filled up the trays with more soot and firelighters, kindled a fire, and when the smoke began to surge, ran the machine out at the gate on to the high-road. A winding hill, nearly half a mile long, led down to the village. The slope was not very steep; the tricycle with its tank was heavy, and the bearings rusty; but by dint of hard pedalling they soon worked up a good speed, and the increased draught caused the smoke to pour forth in a dense cloud, ever increasing in volume and pungency. Meanwhile in the village young Noakes had noticed the first issues of smoke, and ran into his father’s shop shouting: "Feyther, feyther, Farmer Trenchard’s ricks be afire!" Noakes, in a state of great agitation, rushed to the door in his apron, glanced up the hill, and cried, excitedly: "Fire, fire! Run and rouse up the neighbours, Josiah. ’Tis a matter o’ hundreds o’ pounds. Fire!"