The manager snorted indignantly. "_I_ am responsible here, and I am going to exercise my own judgment," he cried sharply. "And now, leave me. You are too young to discuss these matters and you weary me." Turning round sharply on his heel, Max left the room. He had never been spoken to like that before, and it cut him to the heart. He wanted time to think out the situation and to make up his mind what action he should take. True, this man was manager and entrusted with great powers; but Max stood to some extent in the position of owner, and that he should be treated thus seemed an indignity in the highest degree. It was a relief to pour his woes into the ear of the faithful Dale, and together these two paced through the yard, conning over earnestly all the bearings of the situation. It was while they were thus engaged that a fleet of thirty or forty great military motor-lorries rattled by. "The beginning," cried Max bitterly, nodding towards them. "Yes, I fear so. I wonder what they are after?" "Let us follow and see. We may as well know the worst." The wagons came to a stand alongside one of the largest of the stacks of empty shells which now dotted the yard, and, with a promptitude that showed that everything had been arranged beforehand, the tarpaulins that covered the stacks were thrown aside and the shells passed one by one into the wagons. "Now that seems queer to me," remarked Dale, as he watched the men with a thoughtful face. "What can the Germans want with shells that will only fit the Belgian guns! Queer, I call it." "They may be going to use them in the captured guns," replied Max. "Let us look in again at the casting-shops and see if they have started on shells for German guns. 'Pon my word I have half a mind to appeal to the men to cease work, strange as it would be coming from the owner's son while the manager of the works made no sign. The place is running at top speed too--see, Dale?" It was evident that there was no relaxation here. The whole of the buildings and furnaces engaged in the castings were simply humming with energy, and when they entered the nearest door they were amazed. Double the number of men that were at work the day before were now engaged and were working with an intensity that seemed inexplicable to Max. As they entered, one of the foremen came up to them. "Keep a still tongue, Dale," muttered Max beneath his breath. "You are late, Monsieur," he said, addressing Max and gazing at him somewhat closely. "Are you going to work this morning?" "I think not," replied Max, shrugging his shoulders. "I see you are pretty well full up with men." "Yes, we have had a lot more hands placed at our disposal here. I estimate that we shall turn out at least three times as many shells as yesterday." "The new men are German-speaking, of course?" "Of course. This business will be profitable for the firm no doubt?" The man looked at Max as though not quite certain of the state of affairs.