White Fire

Johnny Thompson started, then stared with dilated pupils at a spot on thealuminum casting before him. The spot, a jagged notch left by imperfectwork in the foundry, turned first a dull red, then a bright red, then aglowing white.Mechanically his hand touched the valve of his oxy-acetylene torch. Yes,it was as he had believed, the acetylene valve was closed. The oxygenvalve was open, it was true, but the drum which had contained oxygenunder a thousand pounds pressure was empty. In fact,...
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Johnny Thompson started, then stared with dilated pupils at a spot on thealuminum casting before him. The spot, a jagged notch left by imperfectwork in the foundry, turned first a dull red, then a bright red, then aglowing white.Mechanically his hand touched the valve of his oxy-acetylene torch. Yes,it was as he had believed, the acetylene valve was closed. The oxygenvalve was open, it was true, but the drum which had contained oxygenunder a thousand pounds pressure was empty. In fact, he was waiting forthe arrival of a new drum. That was what made the thing seem strange,impossible! It was a miracle, only miracles don't happen in suchplaces--he was working in the heart of a great industrial plant whichturned out automobiles in twenty carload lots and airplanes by thehundreds.Johnny scratched his chin and stared at the white spot. True, the nozzleof his torch was aimed at that spot; but five minutes before it hadsput-sputted for a few seconds, then died down to an insignificant flamegiving too little heat for any sort of welding. He had cut that flameoff, yet now, before his very eyes the metal glowed white hot......