"Good, me b'y!" said the jolly Irishman to our young friend. "I told ye not to stand the old spalpane's thricks." "I don't mean to any longer," replied Fred. "Ye has a dale of sparit, for sure. I knowed it all the time, but bedad and I thought it wad never start." "Now it has started I'll keep it up so far as Hanks is concerned," replied our hero, as he took a basket under his arm and started for a supply of flocks. Hanks managed to avoid him the remainder of the forenoon. No further crash therefore occurred between them during that time. That the scraggy old man was thoroughly angry there was no doubt--angry at Fred's triumph over him, and most angry at poor little Carl for remaining away, and as Hanks believed, for telling what he had forbidden him to disclose to Fred. About three o'clock in the afternoon Carl came in, pale and sick, but much better than in the morning, when despite all his efforts he could not summon strength enough to go to his work. Fred was in the drying room at the time, and Hanks was up after a roll of cloth. He had just brought down two, and was struggling to get an exceedingly large roll upon his shoulder. This he succeeded in doing after one or two failures, that caused the hands standing near to laugh at him, and make irritating remarks, as is their custom on such occasions. All this had its maddening effect upon him, and it so happened that one of the employees had just taken up the stairs a bucket filled with soft soap, and had accidentally spilled some on the three top stairs. Hanks now came along with the roll of cloth, twice his own size, upon his shoulder--an awkward load to handle--and started to descend. He slipped on the first step, and in trying to regain his footing tripped himself, and tumbled, bumped, and rolled all the way to the bottom of the stairs. The cloth kept along with him. At one time he was on the top of the roll, and at another it seemed to have the better of him. At any rate they stuck by each other, and landed well out on the floor side by side. Jack Hickey indulged in a characteristic shout. All the employees in the room gathered around and laughed in a manner that must have been very tantalizing to one in Hanks' plight. Just then Fred came in and joined the crowd. The old man saw him, and fire almost flashed from his eyes. His two front teeth, that so annoyed our hero by hanging loose and waving back and forth, now seemed to shake as if worked by an electric motor. He picked himself up, white with rage, and parting company with his roll of cloth, rushed into his corner beneath the stairs beside the flockers. The first object that caught his eye was Carl. Hanks rushed at him like a madman, and catching him around the throat, pushed him roughly against a hard iron frame and demanded to know why he dared to disobey his orders in telling what he had been forbidden to mention.