These modifications having been made, I proudly wheeled the forge into the middle of a block party blacksmithing demonstration with Frank Garland (a smith buddy and frequent contributor to the UMBA Newsletter) and Joe, a mutual friend.  I've noticed that when I really screw up I seem to instinctively arrange to display the feat before the largest possible audience.  In point of fact the blower did kick some serious butt, (I never knew that red hot coke could actually be spectacularly lofted several feet up and out of the firepot to the terror of innocent onlookers) which I adjusted to after a few nervous moments.  This, nevertheless, was not something which I was disturbed about (after all, how many smiths can brag that their forge is so manly it's been nicknamed Vesuvius?), however, after about 10 minutes of operation the air delivery was drastically reduced, and it seemed that each time anything was inserted or pulled from the fire one or two of the perimeter firebricks tumbled into the fire, proving to be more than merely irritating.  I cranked the blower all the way up and we limped through an embarrassing demonstration.

     After the forge had cooled I examined the liquefied tuyere and observed that my 1/2" square stock tuyere had partially melted and welded themselves to one another leaving us huffing through a few pinholes (I'll bet I couldn't make a slick weld like that if I'd been trying!).