Again the red glare, as the ladle was poured into the barrel-shaped converter. Then the pumps were started again, and the blast from the converter replaced that of the furnace with its ghostly light. Two hours later the converter was tipped, and pure molten copper was poured out into the ladle. Once more the sinister ruddiness. Quickly the molds were filled, the red light was gone, the spell was broken, conversation was resumed. The first metallurgy of Vairkingi was an accomplished fact. Day came, and with it loud pounding on the gate. Cabot answered it, carelessly and abstractedly sliding back the bolt before inquiring who was outside. The gate swung open with a bang, almost knocking Myles into a flower bed, and in rushed a Vairking youth with drawn sword and panting heavily. “You beast!” he cried, lunging at the earth-man as he spoke. But in his haste and anger he lunged too hard and too far; so that Cabot, although unarmed, was able to step under his guard and grasp him by the wrist before he recovered. Quick as lightning the boy’s sword arm was bent up behind his back, and he was “in chancery”, to use the wrestling term. Slowly, grimly, Cabot forced the imprisoned hand upward between the shoulder-blades of his opponent, until with a groan the latter relinquished the sword, and it fell clattering to the ground. Smiling, Cabot stooped down and picked it up, and forced the young intruder against the wall. “Now,” said the earth-man, “explain yourself.” The boy faced Myles like a cornered panther. “It’s Quivven,” he snarled. “You have stolen my Quivven.” “Nonsense!” Myles exclaimed. “What do you mean?” “I am Tipi the Steadfast,” the youth replied. “Long have I loved the Golden Flame, and she me, until you came to this city. When you arrived I was away on a military expedition, winning distinctions to lay at the tiny feet of my fair one. Last night I returned to find her working at your laboratory. One or the other, you or I, must die.” “You are absurd!” “In _my_ country,” Tipi returned, looking the earth-man straight in the eye, “no common soldier is permitted to dictate manners to a gentleman. I repeat that Quivven—” But at this point, Myles cuffed the young Vairking over one ear, knocking him flat upon the walk; and, as he scrambled sputtering to his feet, dealt him another blow which sent him reeling into the street. Then Myles barred the gate, and turned toward the house. In the doorway stood Quivven, shaking with laughter. Myles was immediately embarrassed. He hadn’t known that his encounter had been observed. He hated to show off, and was afraid that his actions had appeared very melodramatic. “Isn’t Tipi silly?” she asked. “But he may make trouble with your father,” Myles said, with a worried frown. “Oh, I’m not afraid of father.” “But he will put an end to my experiments.”