Anders Berg’s words had done him such good, had placed him at once as it were on his feet before the whole workshop, and in his heart he made a vow of friendship and devotion to Anders Berg for ever.

There were showers of sparks and a ringing from the sledge-hammers in the large smithy, and sharp blows of hammers, while the files shrieked and whistled and set one’s teeth on edge.  The work went on and Nikolai thought he had never known until to-day how splendid it was to be a smith.  He might as well do the key-bit with the fine file at once, while the key was on that side of the vice; and he filed the notch as neatly and smoothly as if it had been intended for a chest of drawers, and not a great pipeless key for a wooden gate.

Now came the handle.  He worked away with the coarse file, until he could scarcely hear the sledge-hammer for its shrieking.

At the anvil stood a man making clincher nails, while one of the apprentices pulled the bellows and occasionally gathered the nails together.  They were talking and laughing, and now and again some loud exclamation penetrated to Nikolai.  It was only when the boy made a grimace at him, that it occurred to Nikolai that he was the subject of the conversation, and instantly the large file became quite light in his hand, and he had suddenly eyes and ears only for what was going on around him.

They were standing talking and nodding over there by the vices; Jan Peter ran and repeated what this one said and what the other one said.  It was easy to see what the meaning of it all was, and that he now stood there like any show animal; no, like something much worse—­like one who was capable of going to the pockets of any one of them!

There was not one of the apprentices who would share his night’s lodging with him now.  He could see that.

He stood straining his ears, with a feeling that they were killing him in all the work-yards round—­they were filing him down at the vices, hammering him flat with the small hammers, and crushing him with the sledge-hammers.  He guessed and understood glances and looks.

“Well, you know, Matthias,” he heard from away there by the nails which the man was now gathering into his apron, “there are many easier trades than standing in a smithy:  make a good pick out of your fists, lad!”

“He-he-he!” laughed the boy addressed.

“Or make yourself pincers that you can get down into skirt-pockets with—­all the lassies in the town, lad, that have any pence.”

Nikolai heard every word and the hoarse laughter that followed; he was very pale.

Coarse merriment shone in the man’s sooty face, and, as their eyes met, he made a contemptuous grimace.

Soon after he came past with his apron full of nails.  Their eyes met again; the scornful ones grew more scornful; Nikolai seemed to see them in a haze, and then the journeyman received a blow full in the face which laid him on his back, scattering the nails as he fell.