Ralph paced the floor of the little office lost in deep thought. The foreman watched him grimly from the corner of one eye. The tramp, lounging amid the unusual luxury of a big swivel chair, seemed enjoying hugely the comfort of the well-heated room and ready for anything that came along, now that he was no longer cold or hungry. He, too, watched Ralph, and as the latter with a kind of start: stopped in his walk and his face lightened up, the tramp drawled out: "Something struck you, guv'nor--give it a voice." "You're pretty sharp," said Ralph, with a smile at the speaker. Then he walked over to the foreman. "Mr. Bartlett," he continued, "I'd like to take a look through your plant here, if you've no objection." "None at all, only I wonder why?" submitted Bartlett, with a searching glance at Ralph. "I was thinking of something," explained Ralph--"how to beat those fellows who are coming here at midnight." "I hope you've hit it!" exclaimed the foreman eagerly. "We shall see." Bartlett took a lantern, and leaving the tramp in the office he led Ralph into the large room adjoining. It was filled with long flat vats filled with some dark liquid. There was a sulphurous smell to the place. The foreman made no explanations until he reached the furnace room. "You see those big tanks?" he spoke now. "Those are the melters. Mr. Glidden spent a great deal of money to get them right. Run up that ladder at the side and look over the rim." Ralph did so. The tank he looked into was filled with bars that looked like lead, with smaller fragments of a darker metal and great chunks that resembled resin. When he came down to the floor he opened the door of the furnace underneath and peered in. His face took on a satisfied look. "See here," said Bartlett, as they reëntered the big room on their way back to the office. "Those pipes running from each furnace convey the molten metal into those vats. There is a great hissing and bubbling, I can tell you. It's a sort of red-hot cyaniding process. The fumes, though! No man could walk through this room when the pour is on and come out alive." "You don't say so?" murmured Ralph. Then he went up close to the foreman and took him by lapel of his coat. "Mr. Bartlett," he said, "I see you are all ready to fire up." "At a minute's notice," replied the foreman, with a gleam of pride in his eye. "I suppose within an hour, two hours, you could get those melters so hot they are red all through?" "Pretty nigh, I tell you." "And you could fill this room here with fumes that would make a man hesitate about crossing the dead line, until you got ready to shut off the feeders?" "You couldn't hit it closer if you'd been brought up to the business," declared the foreman with unction. "Good. Now then--whisper." They were near the office door. Ralph talked rapidly in a low tone into the ear of his companion. The latter gave a great start. Then he grinned. Then, alive with animation, he clapped Ralph mightily on the back.