The boy was startled from his musing.
"You mustn't be so impatient," he said. "This is a serious matter for me, and I've got to have time to consider."
"I can wait a little longer," said Father Bear. "But after that you'll get no more grace."
The boy swept his hand across his forehead. No plan of escape had as yet come to his mind, but this much he knew—he did not wish to do any harm to the iron, which was so useful to rich and poor alike, and which gave bread to so many people in this land.
"Come, come!" growled the bear. "Will you or won't you?"
"I won't!" said the boy.
Father Bear squeezed him a little harder, but said nothing.
"You'll not get me to destroy the iron-*works!" defied the boy. "The iron is so great a blessing that it will never do to harm it."
"Then, of course, you don't expect to be allowed to live very long?" said the bear.
"No, I don't expect it," returned the boy, looking the bear straight in the eye.
