"THE MINE IS ON FIRE"
THREE days had passed uneventfully, the Iron Boys having kept up their record for mining more ore than any other section in either of the company's mines. How they succeeded in doing so was a mystery to Mr. Penton, for he failed to discover that the boys were applying any new methods to the operation of their drifts.
At noon on the third day, when most of the miners were eating their dinners in the mines, the foremen and shift bosses having come to the surface, Steve also had come up for the purpose of going to his boarding place to get a pair of boots.
The lad ate a quick dinner at the boarding house, then hurried back toward the shaft. Bob had remained in the mines, and Steve hoped to be down in time to have a chat with his friend before the whistles blew for the resumption of work at a quarter after one o'clock. The Iron Boy was walking rapidly, when all of a sudden just about an eighth of a mile from the Red Rock shaft, he saw a wisp of smoke shoot up from the main shaft.
Steve halted, fixing a keen glance on the dark upper works of the towering shaft trestle.
"That's curious," he muttered. "I am sure I saw smoke there. Perhaps it came from the engine house yonder. But, no; the wind is in the opposite direction."
The lad saw no further signs of smoke, so he started on, half believing that he had been wrong. He had gone but a short distance when he halted suddenly, uttering an exclamation of startled amazement at what he beheld.
A huge column of black smoke burst from the shaft, shooting high in the air. When far above the top of the shaft the column opened up like an umbrella, darkening the landscape, throwing the base of the upper works into deep shadow.
"There's been an explosion!" cried Steve. "They'll all be lost down there!"
The lad sprang forward, running with all speed toward the mouth of the shaft. Ere he had reached it, however, sparks were belching from the mouth of the shaft. The smoke was so dense, however, that the shaft was almost hidden from view.
Men were running toward the scene from all directions, shouting and yelling. Steve was not saying a word. As he ran his mind was actively at work. He understood what was happening underground. He did not know what the causehad been, though he believed there had been an explosion.
"The mine's on fire! The mine's on fire!" was the cry passed from mouth to mouth. Pandemonium seemed to have broken loose. The cage gong at the shaft entrance could be heard through the heavy smoke, crashing out its plea for help.
The cage-tender was too excited to give the signal any heed. He had run from the mouth of the shaft, half suffocated by the smoke. Steve dashed up to the man, grabbed him by the collar and spun the fellow about.
"Get to work! There are men down in the mine trying to get up. Start the cage!"
"I—I can't. The smoke will strangle me."
"Haul up that cage, you coward!" roared Rush, giving the man a shove that sent him staggering toward the shaft. The fellow was about to turn back when he saw Steve striding quickly after him. Then he dived into the dense smoke, answered the signal and began hauling up the cage. Rush followed him, dipping his own handkerchief into a pail of water as he passed.
"Stuff the handkerchief into your mouth. Get somebody to keep you supplied with wet cloths."
The cage came to a rattling stop and a dozen black-faced miners staggered out into the open.
Steve dragged them out into the fresh air.
"What's happened down there? Tell me quick!" he demanded.
"It's a roaring furnace! The whole mine's afire," gasped the man.
"Are there any alive to come up in the cage?"
"N-n-n-no."
"Send the cage down!" commanded Rush, dashing to the mouth of the shaft. "Watch sharp for signals. Stand by your post unless you want to be thrown in. Be a man! This is no place for cowards. Where's the superintendent?"
"I—I don't know."
Steve dashed out. A new idea had occurred to him. He rubbed the smoke from his smarting eyes as he emerged into the open. The lad was so dizzy on account of the smoke from the burning mine that he could scarcely keep his feet.
As soon as he was able to collect his senses he glanced toward the shaft where the lumber skip went down into the mine to carry the timber for the bull gang, the timber used in shoring up the levels to keep them from caving in.
There was smoke there, too, but Rush noted that it was not nearly so dense as in the main shaft.
"I don't believe there is much fire near thatshaft. I hope the men have been able to get to that part of the mine."
The Iron Boy started on a run for the lumber skip.
"Where's your skip?" he demanded sharply.
"On the first level."
"Jerk it up here! Why aren't you bringing up the men on it?"
"I haven't had any orders to do so."
Rush restrained himself with difficulty. The skip came up with a bound and the lad jumped into it, bracing his feet on the narrow flooring, grasping the shelving steel over his head.
"Drop me to the twentieth. Let her go full speed."
"You'll be killed," warned the skip-tender.
"Do as I tell you, and be quick about it, unless you want to answer to me here and now. I'll——"
Steve's words were cut short. The skip-tender threw his throttle wide open. The skip shot down at a frightful rate of speed. The rapidity of his descent took the boy's breath away. He gasped, opening his mouth wide to fill his lungs with air. But he did not succeed very well. He feared that he would fall from the skip in his dizziness, there being no guards to prevent his doing so. The front of the scoop-shaped skip was not protected in any way, andthe slightest slip would send the solitary passenger to his death.
The skip stopped with a jolt that hurled Steve Rush forward on his face. He thought that was to be the last of him. A moment later, however, the brave lad discovered that the skip had stopped at the twentieth level, and that he had been thrown out into the level itself.
Scrambling to his feet, the lad uttered a shout to attract the attention of anyone who might be near.
There was no reply. Steve nearly strangled from the smoke he had drawn into his lungs. The drift was silent and deserted, the electric lights gleaming dimly in the thick veil of smoke that hung over everything.
"I wonder where they are?" breathed the lad, keeping his lips tightly shut. "They must be trying to work their way up by the ladders."
Running to another part of the level, the Iron Boy sprang up a ladder and once more uttered a long-drawn shout.
"Hello," came the answer. "Where are you?"
"Chute thirty-one."
A man came running through the half darkness. His face was so blackened from smoke that Rush did not recognize him.
"Is that you, Steve?" cried a familiar voice.
"Yes—Bob, is that you?"
"What's left of me."
Steve gave his companion a mighty hug.
"Where are the men? Quick, tell me! We must help them!"
"I've been herding them on the lower level; that is, all of them that I have been able to find, but they are the craziest lot I ever saw. The heathens won't listen to reason."
"How bad is the fire—is the whole mine going?"
"It strikes me that it is pretty well gone already."
"Come on! We've got our work cut out for us," cried Steve, starting along the level at a brisk trot. "You've shown great judgment in getting the men below. Is there much water down there?"
"No, not very much, but enough to keep them from burning to death, I guess."
The chums had gone but a short distance when Rush caught the crackling sound of burning timber. The smoke was becoming suffocating and the boys were obliged to move with more caution.
"We can't get through there, Bob."
"No; this has started since I came through."
"We shall have to go around through the cross-cut. That isn't on fire, is it?"
"I don't know. It was not when I was over there last."
"How many levels are on fire? Do you know?"
"I guess most of them are. You see, the fire works down through the wooden rises, then scattering, sets the woodwork on each level ablaze."
This gave Steve Rush a sudden idea.
"They can't all be going. Get together a lot of the men. We'll station two or three at each rise with pails of water and the gangs ought to be able to head off the fire when it comes through."
"That's a good idea. I'm with you."
The Iron Boys hurried away. They found groups of excited men, so beside themselves with fear that they were powerless to think or to act.
Steve was obliged in some instances to handle the men roughly—men much larger and stronger than himself—in order to shake some courage into their trembling bodies.
Yet he did not blame them so much. It was a scene calculated to shake the nerves of the strongest men. The interior of the mine was a roaring furnace; the flames were crackling with a sinister sound, eating their way through the dry timber. Now and then a dull, heavy reverberation told where a drift or a level had caved in under the weight of the rocks above it.
In the meantime Rush had explained to the men what he wanted done. The mine captain was not in the mine and the men all seemed to have lost their heads completely. After a time, however, Steve succeeded in getting a number of them to the point where he thought they would be able to obey orders.
Rush headed the first shift and led the way to a rise on a level that had not been attacked by the flames. Stationing a squad there, he went on to other levels, and other rises, arranging his forces in the same manner.
While he was doing this, Bob Jarvis was performing a similar service. The boys had no thought, apparently, for their own safety. They were working to save the company's property, and at the same time to make it possible for the men still in the mine to live. By this time the smoke had become so thick in the lumber shaft that it was impossible for anyone either to get up or down. The skips and the cage had stopped running altogether.
One of the foremen in the mines had been stationed at the only telephone that was working, where Steve directed him to keep the superintendent informed of the progress of the fire and of the work that was being done to check it. At the same time the Iron Boy was calmly demanding orders from his superior.
"Tell Rush I have no orders to give. What he cannot think of is beyond me," was the answer sent back to the mine from Mr. Penton.
No one knew how many lives had been lost, though everyone believed that a great disaster had overtaken the miners in the Red Rock Mine. This was true. Many had been cut off by the caving in of the roofs of the levels and drifts, while others, having been overcome by smoke, had fallen unconscious, some never to rise again.
Steve Rush, with his companion and a band of courageous men, was now fighting desperately to confine the fire to the eastern section of the mine, which was nearest to the shafts.
Both boys had thrown off their coats, they had lost their hats, their faces were black and almost unrecognizable, and the hair of each was badly singed.
"The telephone has gone out of business," announced the man whom Steve had assigned to this work.
"Very well; we shall be in the same condition if we do not succeed in stopping the progress of the fire."
Every little while the workers were obliged to flatten themselves upon the ground for a breath of fresher air. Now and then one would topple over unconscious, to be dragged out of harm's way by a companion. On all this Stevekept a watchful eye. Thus far he had not lost a man, thanks to his watchfulness and bravery.
All at once a new idea occurred to Rush that startled him.
"Bob!" he called.
Jarvis was at his side instantly.
"What about the powder room?"
"The—the—the pow——" stammered Jarvis.
"Yes; what about it?"
"Why—why, the fire must be right on it at this very minute. I—I never thought of it before. I——"
"Then the whole mine will be blown up!" cried Steve. "There are more than five tons of dynamite in that room!"
THROUGH TUNNELS OF FLAME
STEVE waited not a moment.
"Keep working, men!" he shouted, starting away at top speed.
"Come back!" yelled Jarvis. "You'll be blown to death."
"We'll all be blown to death if someone doesn't stop the fire before it gets to the powder room."
"Then I'm going with you," answered Bob Jarvis, following after his companion at top speed. "It isn't any worse for me than it is for you."
"Stay back there and handle the men!" flung back Steve over his shoulder.
Bob paid no attention to the command. He was running at full speed in order to keep up with his companion, for Steve, with a handkerchief stuffed in his mouth, was running on the toes of his heavy shoes, darting in and out of drifts, making sharp detours to get around a burning spot that was too hot to be passed with safety.
"Keep shouting, or I'll lose you," cried Bob.
"I can't! I'll choke!" was the faint answer.
On raced the two boys, Bob gaining on Steve very slowly, struggle as he might to decrease the other's lead.
"We're too late!" groaned Jarvis, as the lads came to a sudden halt. Before them the flames were crackling viciously in the dry woodwork of the drift leading into the earth for some sixty yards, where the powder room was located. "Get out of here, or we'll be blown to smithereens!"
"Bob, we'vegot tofind some way to save the magazine. Think what it will mean if we do not! Why, it will wreck the whole mine and the chances are that not a man of all the crew will get out alive."
"Yes, but how are we going to do it?"
Steve stood thoughtful for a moment, while second by second the flames were eating farther and farther into the drift, drawing nearer and nearer to the deadly stuff that was piled in cases behind the wooden partition that stood in the drift beyond the flames just around the bend.
"I'm going through," announced Steve firmly.
"You are not going to try to get through that burning drift, are you?"
"That's exactly what I am going to do. It's our only hope, old man. We're surely doomed if I don't. If I fail then I shall have done my best. Take off your shirt."
"What for?"
"Because I want to use it."
"Why don't you take off your own?"
"That is exactly what I am going to do," answered the lad, proceeding to strip off the garment. "Be quick! We've no time to lose."
Bob began reluctantly to remove his own shirt, which he tossed to Steve.
"Now, what are you going to do?"
Rush did not answer. He began wrapping the two shirts about his head, having first made slits in one of them through which he could see. Both garments were finally twisted about his head until the latter looked several times its natural size.
"Now I want you to stick right here. If I am overcome you'll have to try your best to get me out."
"Yes; I'll be in nice shape to go after you. I'll singe the skin all off my body if I try it. You get out the best way you can, but, mind you, if that fire creeps much closer to the magazine you'll see me making a lively sprint for a safe place."
"There will be no safe place in the mine if that happens, Bob. I guess you won't run."
"No, I guess I won't, at that," admitted the lad. "What are you going to do when you get in there?"
"I am going to try to block the passage so the fire can't get to the magazine. I can't do any less than fail. I will shout if I get safely through the fire; then you will know that I am all right. Good-bye, Bob, if I do not see you again. In case anything happens to me, try to get the men as far away as possible before the blow-up occurs."
Steve Rush bravely bolted into the tunnel of fire. There was fire above his head, sparks falling in a perfect cataract about him, while the drift was full of suffocating smoke.
Bob stood with head bent forward in a listening attitude, apparently unmindful of the shower of burning cinders that fell over him. His whole attention was centred on listening for the call that would signal Steve Rush's safe arrival on the other side of the fire.
It came at last.
"Who-o-o-o-o-p!"
"He's made it!" breathed Bob, with a deep sigh of relief. "I wonder what he is going to try to do? I ought to be in there with him, instead of standing out here doing nothing."
In the meantime Steve, having penetrated beyond the fire zone, made his way quickly to the wooden partition behind which lay the boxes of high explosives. He gave the door a sharp push, but it did not yield.
It is locked!" groaned the boy. "I've got to get in there, I've got to do it or we are all lost!"
The fire was by this time less than fifty feet behind him, creeping along toward the powder room at a rapid rate.
Steve backed off and threw himself against the door with all his strength. But the door did not move.
Once more did the lad try to break the door in, the rough wood tearing the skin from his shoulders, sending the blood trickling down his sides in tiny rivulets.
Bang!
He hurled himself against the door for the sixth time. The door gave way with surprising suddenness. Steve Rush plunged headlong into the magazine and went down, entangled in the wreck of the splintered door.
Following his sudden entry into the powder room there came a succession of crashes. At first he thought the dynamite was exploding and the boy clenched his hands to meet the great shock that he felt sure would come shortly.
It did not come. Steve suddenly realized that the dynamite was not going to explode just yet; what he had heard was the falling of some of the dynamite cases to the floor, following the shock of the bursting in of the door.
"What a fool I am," cried the lad, starting to get to his feet.
It was then that he made the discovery that he had taken part of the partition down with him and that he was so entangled in the wreck that he would have difficulty in extricating himself. Every second the fire was drawing nearer the magazine. Steve fought as he never had fought before. Seconds seemed hours to him, and the crackling of the flames seemed to be about his very ears. The more he struggled the tighter he seemed to be wedging himself under the timbers and planking that he had carried down with him.
With a mighty effort and in sheer desperation the lad lifted the weight with his body. Then by a quick wriggle he managed to squirm from beneath the planking, clearing all but his feet. These were again caught. They would surely have been crushed had it not been for his heavy shoes.
But now the boy's hands were free, thus enabling him to use them in liberating himself. After a struggle of a few moments he succeeded in getting from under the partition and sprang to his feet.
The electric lights were glowing in the magazine, the circuit not yet having been broken.
At a bound the Iron Boy leaped to the farside of the magazine. From a box on a shelf he selected half a dozen white, paper-covered objects, somewhat resembling wrapped candles, except that they were larger.
This done, Steve whipped out his knife and cut the electric feed wire that led into the magazine. In doing so he got a shock that nearly knocked him down.
"Gracious, but that wire is hot!" he exclaimed, shaking his hand to restore the circulation. "It never seemed so hot as that before. Everything is hot down here to-day, and I shall be in the same condition if I do not make lively tracks out of here."
Running from the wrecked powder room, the lad sprang down the drift, running straight toward the fire again. As yet he had not replaced the shirts about his head, for he was not yet ready to plunge into the fiery tunnel. The main purpose of his going to the powder room had not yet been carried out.
Reaching a point some twenty feet from the edge of the fire, the lad thrust one of the sticks into a crevice in the rocks. One after another he distributed the sticks in various places, some of them being wedged behind the lagging that supported the drift.
After a few seconds he had distributed them all, forming a line that the fire would be sureto touch before it could get by to reach the magazine.
Steve could hear Jarvis calling to him now. Perhaps Bob had been doing so right along, but if so, Rush had been so occupied with his task that he had not heard.
"Wh-o-o-p-e-e!" answered the plucky lad. "I'm coming. Look out for me."
Taking a final survey of his work, Steve turned toward the fire again.
"Getting out of here is going to be more difficult than getting in," he decided. "I shall be well singed by the time I get through that wall of fire."
Wrapping the shirts about his head, Steve dived into the fiery tunnel, holding his breath as he ran.
The heat was terrific. He could feel it burning through his trousers, and he could smell the burning cloth about his head. He had thrust his hands into his trousers' pockets, which afforded some protection.
Suddenly he stumbled over a timber that had fallen from its supports and measured his length on the ground. As he fell he uttered a shout.
The fall stunned him, for the boy struck on his head. Bob, however, had heard the cry. Regardless of the fact that neither his head norhis body was protected, Jarvis dashed boldly into the burning drift. He knew the skin was peeling from his arms, but he did not experience any sensation of pain.
All at once he, too, stumbled and fell in a heap with a deluge of burning embers and live sparks showering about him. But Bob was not stunned. He was very much alive at this particular moment, for he realized for the first time that unless he moved rapidly he would be burned alive.
Just then he felt the object over which he had fallen move.
"Steve! Steve! Is that you?" cried Jarvis.
"Ye-yes."
Bob fastened on him with a powerful grip, and began dragging Rush from the fire, first having stripped off one of the burning shirts.
Steve regained control of himself almost instantly.
"Let go! Run for it! Something is going to happen!" he shouted.
But Jarvis did not let go. He ran faster than ever, holding firmly to his companion. Perhaps he was beginning to understand what Steve expected to happen. At least he was making all the speed possible under the circumstances.
Both boys drew in a long breath as they flattened themselves on the ground, well free of the fire zone.
Steve bounded to his feet.
"Run for your life!" he shouted.
"Is the magazine going up?" cried Bob.
"Something is going up in a minute. It may be the magazine."
This time Rush grabbed Bob, starting on a run with him. Both boys were choking from the smoke they were inhaling.
"You're on fire!" yelled Jarvis. "Stop! I'll put it out."
"No, no, no! Keep going. Don't stop. It won't hurt me to burn a little. I'm already pretty well cooked—"
Boom!
A reverberating report sounded through the level, and the Iron Boys were hurled violently to the ground.
THE IRON BOYS WIN
"NOW we will put out the fire," announced Steve Rush calmly, as he got to his feet and began whipping out the smouldering sparks on the scant covering that he had left on his body.
"The powder house has blown up and the mine is caving in!" cried a miner, dashing in front of them through a cross-cut. A dozen others were following him, yelling wildly.
"There go my firemen. Stop them, Bob!"
Rush sprang out into the cross-cut waving his arms.
"Stop! You are all right if you will keep your heads."
"The magazine's gone up!"
"The magazine has not gone up. Get back to your stations. How is the fire?"
"We were getting the best of it on our level when the powder house went——"
"Nonsense! I tell you it's all right, but unless you do keep the fire from spreading into the other side of the mine you'll go up in smoke, the whole crowd of you. Now get back to work."
Some of the men turned to retrace their steps.
"He's lying to you," shouted one of those who had not turned. "Come with me, and I'll show you the way out. The kid's gone crazy."
"Back, Every Man of You!"
"Back, Every Man of You!"
"Back, I tell you! Every man of you!" shouted Steve, placing himself squarely in front of the man who had started to run.
The fellow did not stop. He started to run right over Rush, when, quick as a flash, Steve's clenched fist landed on the miner's jaw, sending the man down in a heap. In the meantime Bob Jarvis, with a howl, had jumped into the fray. He knocked down two men who sought to force their way past him.
"Come on, you cowards! You'll find my fist is harder to get away from than the fire in the lagging. I'll pound every one of you if you don't get back to your stations."
Others had come running along the cross-cut after the explosion, until there were fully thirty men in the party.
Facing them stood the two Iron Boys, naked to the waist, Steve's body streaked with soot and blood. The miners stood hesitating. Somehow the courage of the two lads shamed the men. They wavered between their shame and their fears.
"Go back and do your duty like men," commanded Steve Rush in a firm tone. "Now that you are in condition to listen, I will tell youthat the powder house has not blown up. There is now little chance that it will."
"But we heard it go up," protested a voice.
"No, you did not. The powder house, in all probability, is buried under tons of rock. I planted the drift with sticks of dynamite. When the fire reached them the explosion of the dynamite caved in the drift, thus shutting off the magazine and burying it. Your danger is from fire alone. Go back to work."
For a moment the rough men gazed at the slender, resolute lad standing before them; then the miners, with one accord, uttered a yell. Before the lads could dodge out of the way the miners had grabbed the Iron Boys, and, uttering choking hurrahs, bore the lads back through the level on a run.
These same men were ready to fight anything now. Their courage had come back to them, increased tenfold. They had realized in a moment what desperate bravery had been Steve's.
From that moment on the men fought desperately against the flames. Little by little, now that systematic efforts were being put forth, the fire died out. The mine was still filled with suffocating smoke, however, and men were being overcome on every hand.
From the surface a band of rescuers had begun to make their way down the ladders intothe mine, headed by the superintendent himself. Each was provided with head-wrappings, damp cloths being placed over mouths and noses.
The instant the rescuers reached the first level, Mr. Penton hurried them off to the west, in order to get them as far away from the magazines as possible. He expected to hear the muffled report of the exploding magazine at any moment, and to feel the ground tremble and settle beneath his feet.
Reaching a point far enough to the west to place them out of immediate danger, should there be an explosion, the party took to the ladders again and began their descent into the heart of the conflagration.
In the meantime Steve Rush had worked out another plan. He had visited the most dangerous places in the mine, learning where the main artery of fire was. This done, the lad sent out men to hunt up sticks of dynamite in some of the working drifts. A few sticks were thus secured. With these Steve blew down the roofs of the levels in several places, thus absolutely checking the fire at these points.
This done, the men had little difficulty in handling the other levels. Mr. Penton, during his slow, dangerous descent, caught the faint boom of the dynamite sticks. He knew that it was not the magazine and concluded that thedistant reports he had heard were caused by the explosion of stray sticks of dynamite that the fire had reached.
At last the party reached the fifteenth level, where the fire-fighting operations were going steadily forward. No one gave the slightest heed to the superintendent and his party. The miners were too busy fighting fire, and they were working with an enthusiasm and force that amazed Mr. Penton.
He hailed a drift foreman.
"Bates, what is the condition down here? I wish to know the details. You can save me time by telling me."
"I think we have the fire under control, sir."
"Is the mine badly damaged?"
"I fear it is."
"How many levels have been burned?"
"There has been fire on all of them below this, and, as you probably know, above here, too. I think Steve Rush and Bob Jarvis can give you more information than can I."
"Where are they?"
"I don't know. They're everywhere at once. I never saw anything like those two young fellows. You can give them the credit for saving your mine."
"But the magazines—is there fire near them?" asked the superintendent hurriedly.
"There was."
"Who put it out?"
"Rush and Jarvis did—that is, they got into the powder house, carried out dynamite and blew up the drift ahead of the fire, so it could not reach the explosives."
The blood rushed to the face of the superintendent in a sudden wave of emotion.
"Have any lives been lost?"
"I fear so. We have been too busy to find out. We knew there was nothing that could be done; in fact, there was no possibility of our getting into the other side of the works. If we could get there the men could get here. I believe, however, that Rush and Jarvis have pulled out twenty or thirty men who had been overcome."
"Wonderful!" breathed Mr. Penton. "Come, men; we must go through the mine and make a quick investigation. Bates, have you stationed men through the various levels to watch?"
"I believe Rush has attended to that. In fact, he did that some time ago. He took matters into his own hands, and we were very willing to have him do so, for the men were crazed with fear."
Just then a man rushed into the level where Mr. Penton and the foreman were standing. This man was bare to the waist, his skin soblackened with smoke as to render him almost unrecognizable.
"Who is that?" demanded the superintendent sharply.
"That's Rush."
Steve had not observed Mr. Penton.
"I want ten volunteers to go with me to the other side of the mine. It will be hot in there, but we've got to look after the men in that section. Some of them, no doubt, are imprisoned in drifts that have caved in, and——"
"Steve!"
Mr. Penton strode forward with outstretched hand.
"Steve, my boy, come here."
The Iron Boy sprang forward, grasped Mr. Penton's hand, then turned sharply to the men.
"Who will go with me?"
"I will," answered every man in the drift.
"Rush, you have done enough. I will head the rescue party. It is my place to do so," exclaimed the superintendent. "Where is Jarvis?"
"On the level below this. He is beating out the fire on the main and sub-levels. He has done splendid work, Mr. Penton."
"So I understand. Send for him, and both of you make your way to the surface, if you are able to do so."
"No, sir; we shall stay. We are foremen. It is our duty to remain in the mine as long as there is anything to do. Mr. Bates, with the superintendent's permission, will you relieve Mr. Jarvis and take charge of the work here and below as well?"
Mr. Penton nodded his permission.
"Yes," answered Bates.
Half a dozen men were chosen from that shift, Steve deciding to pick up others on the way to the fire-swept part of the mine. Mr. Penton headed the rescue party, which made its way as rapidly as possible to the other side.
It was a sad duty that the men found before them. The total loss was ten men. Fifty men in various parts of the mine had been buried in drifts and it was night before the last of them had been gotten out. While this was being done watchmen patroled the levels, Steve Rush having laid out the plans for this work. Now and then a fresh blaze would spring up here and there, but in each instance there were men on hand to fight it.
As soon as the last blaze had been extinguished the bull gang began rushing timber down into the mine, and the timber-men got to work, shoring up the weakened levels. All night long the work continued. Neither Steve nor Bob Jarvis would leave the mine. The Iron Boysseemed to be everywhere at once, especially at points where their services were needed. Mr. Penton found himself deferring to the judgment of the brave lads. There was still need for cool heads. He knew full well that he could depend upon the two boys under all conditions.
Morning came, though the lads did not know it until the day shift came down to work. The mine was still smoky, but it had cleared sufficiently to enable the men to work. No ore was to be taken out that day, all hands starting in to clean up the mine. The Iron Boys, after having been on duty for twenty-four hours, made their way to the surface, first having borrowed jackets to cover their backs. They went to their boarding house, and, after a bath, tumbled into bed, remaining there until late in the evening.
BEGINNING TO UNDERSTAND
MR. CARRHART, the president of the mining company, arrived early on the following morning. He was an experienced engineer, and with a force that is characteristic of successful men in the industrial world, he quickly put the mine in working condition.
In the meantime Mr. Carrhart had listened to the tale of the heroism of the Iron Boys. They had saved the company thousands of dollars by their efforts. On the second day he sent for the two boys and extended to them his hearty congratulations, assuring them at the same time that he would show the appreciation of the company in a more substantial way. He asked Steve if there were anything he could do for him at that moment.
"No, sir; I thank you," was the prompt answer.
Late that afternoon Steve was approached by an inspector in the mines named Cavard, a Russian. His first name, being practically unpronounceable, had remained in disuse so long that nearly every one in the mine had forgottenit. Cavard was called the Duke for short, because of his dignified carriage and aristocratic airs. He was greatly respected, however, especially by the foreign element in the mine, over whom he exercised considerable influence. It was Cavard to whom they turned to settle their differences; it was Cavard who advised them in their money matters, and it had been rumored that he had profited through this until he had amassed quite a sum of money. However, the man was an experienced miner. He had worked up from grade to grade until he had become an inspector, and though the officials of the company did not like the man personally, they were forced to admit that he was valuable to them.
Steve knew Cavard, though he had never passed five minutes' conversation with him since the lads had been in the employ of the company. Steve did not like the fellow; he had distrusted the Duke from the first. Their dislike for each other appeared to have been mutual, Cavard treating both boys with indifference and scorn.
Rush was, therefore, rather surprised when the Russian approached him with cordial, outstretched hand that afternoon on the level where the lad was attending to his duties.
"I want to congratulate you, Rush," said the inspector.
"What for?" asked Steve rather brusquely.
"For your heroism at the time of the fire. The men are all proud of you."
"Thank you. I simply did my duty. Anyone would have done the same."
"But the fact remains, my boy, that no one did the same. The men were panic-stricken. They were crazed with fear."
"So I observed. But I hear good reports of you also. You did your duty, too. Why aren't they congratulating you?"
"Oh, that was nothing. By the way, Rush, you and I ought to be friends."
"I wasn't aware that we were enemies," replied the boy, with a faint smile.
"I did not mean it that way. I meant that we ought to get together and come to a better understanding."
"Thank you; I am too busy to indulge in friendships. I am much obliged for your kindness, though."
"Pshaw, don't talk that way. I want you to do something for me."
"I shall be glad to do whatever I can for you, sir. What do you want?"
"Come and see me. You and I have much to talk over. We can talk better in my own rooms. It may be to your advantage to talk matters over with me."
"What is it you want to talk with me about?" asked Steve.
Steve's suspicions were aroused, though what lay behind the invitation he did not know.
"Will you come?"
"I'll think about it," answered the lad. "Where do you live?"
"Twenty-three, Iron Street."
"Yes, I know the place."
"You might bring your friend Jarvis with you. He will be interested in what I have to say. You are both boys of influence in the mines, and you are advancing rapidly. We ought to be able to work together to our mutual advantage."
Rush bade the inspector good afternoon and went about his duties. The lad was puzzled. That Cavard was influenced by some ulterior motive he was certain. But, puzzle over the matter as he might, Steve Rush was unable to decide in his own mind what that motive might be. He was at first inclined to accept Cavard's invitation to call on him. Upon reflection, however, he decided that he wanted nothing to do with the man.
That evening he talked the matter over with Bob, and Jarvis was of the opinion that the less they had to do with the Russian the better it would be for both of them. Later on, as theboys were taking their evening walk, they passed Cavard strolling along the street with a stranger. The latter was tall and well dressed. He was red of face, and when he raised his hat to wipe the perspiration from his forehead the boys saw that his head was crowned with a luxuriant growth of red hair. His small, keen eyes took in every detail of the two boys in one comprehensive glance. They saw him ask a quick question of Cavard. The latter glanced at the boys, nodding smilingly, then answered the red-headed man in a tone too low for them to catch the words.
"Who's the red head?" demanded Bob Jarvis.
"I don't know. I never saw him before," answered Steve, gazing searchingly at the two men. "He is a stranger in this vicinity, that is certain. I wonder what he and Cavard are talking about so confidentially. By the way, Bob, have you kept your eyes open of late?"
"I usually do. What particular thing are you talking about?"
"What I spoke about before. Since the fire in the mine there has been more talk than ever going on among the men."
"Yes; I have observed that."
"I have noticed also that our friend Cavard has had a most important part in these talks. I wish I knew what he had in mind when heurged me to come and see him. I believe that fellow will bear watching, Bob."
"I agree with you there. We'll keep an eye on him. He has nerve, whatever other failings may be his. He certainly made himself useful at the fire the other day and the men would lay down their lives for him at any moment."
"Provided they didn't get an attack of cold feet," added Jarvis, with a grin.
"You couldn't blame them for that. You must remember that the rank and file of the men in the mines are ignorant and unreasoning. In consequence they become easily panic-stricken in time of danger."
"Yes, that's so. A little knowledge does give a man more or less courage."
"Because it gives him greater reasoning powers. It teaches him to reason things out instead of getting scared and running away. That is why the Duke is so far above the rank and file of the workers in the mines."
"I guess you're right, at that," agreed Bob.
"Of course I am. But I am convinced that we shall hear something from Cavard before a great while that will interest us. He has made the first move in asking us to come and see him. Of course we shall not do so, but if he wants to see us very badly he will look us up, depend upon that. If he approaches you, Bob, let himtake the lead, but see to it that you draw him out if you can without committing yourself."
"I'll do that; don't you worry. I'll show him I can play at a game of wits just as well as he can."
"Don't underrate the fellow. Remember, he is a sharp, shrewd man. He is playing a game unless I am greatly in error, and he is playing it very shrewdly. We know that, because not a breath of what he is up to has gotten to our ears."
"Have you asked anyone about him?"
"Well, I had a talk with the mine captain of the Cousin Jack the other day. Jim thinks him a very capable man. He says that Cavard is one of the best men in the mines, and that the Duke has more influence with the miners than has any other man in the mines."
"That statement doesn't enlighten us as to Cavard's game."
"No, but we will eventually find it out. I shall try to throw myself in Cavard's way without appearing to do so. Then perhaps he will open up and give me a clue to what he is driving at."
"That's a good idea. I'll keep hands off and leave you a clear field to work in."
Their further conversation along this line was interrupted by Mr. Penton, who overtook them at that moment. He greeted the lads warmlyand walked with them until he reached his own home, where he left the Iron Boys. They did not refer to the subject again that night. The following day was Sunday, a day when all work is suspended in the mines, no matter how great the demand for output.
Late in the afternoon Steve saw Cavard and the stranger walking out of town, going in the direction of a little lake that lay a mile beyond the mining town. After a time Rush observed other groups moving in the same direction.
"Now I wonder if the whole town is going fishing," mused Rush. "I've a good notion to follow them out and see what is going on. But I think I had better stay at home and attend to my own business."
He did so, in a short time forgetting entirely what he had observed. The matter was again brought to his attention when the men came back just before the supper hour. Some of the men from his own boarding house had been out to the lake. All of them seemed more or less excited over something. The boys asked a few guarded questions, but gained no information whatever, their questions being parried in every instance.
This made Steve Rush all the more determined to get to the bottom of the mystery.
"I'd give a day's wages to know what thatfellow, Cavard, has got in the back of his head. I'll bet it would be interesting reading, and I'm going to make it my business to find out. Something has been going on to-day, Bob."
"Yes; it is easy to see that. Have you any idea what this secrecy means?"
"Not the slightest in the world."
It was noticed that the red-haired stranger still lingered in town. Steve learned that the man was in frequent communication with certain of the workers in the mine, spending all, or the greater part of his evenings at Cavard's lodgings on Iron Street.
One evening late in the week Rush walked down to the village hotel, where he occasionally went to read the Chicago papers that were kept on file there. He had seated himself at the long, paper-littered table in the deserted reading room and settled himself for a quiet time. He had been reading for some time when he suddenly heard his name spoken.
Glancing up quickly the Iron Boy found himself looking into the florid face of the red-haired man whom he had seen with the Duke.
"Good evening, sir," said Steve innocently, resuming his reading.
"I am glad to make your acquaintance, young man. I have heard all about your heroism at the time of the fire in the mine. It was a bravepiece of work that you and your friend—let's see, what is his name?"
"You mean Bob Jarvis?"
"Yes, that's the name—that you two did."
"Thank you. Let's talk about the weather."
The stranger laughed heartily.
"I see you are a humorist. I expect you will be at the head of a mine yourself one of these fine days."
"I expect to be," answered the lad so quickly as fairly to take the other man's breath away. "That day is a long way off, however."
"Perhaps not so far off as you think. There is a way that men of your ability and mind may improve their conditions."
"May I ask what your business is, sir?"
"I am interested in mines. I am up here on mining business. By the way, I have some of the finest samples of ore that you ever saw."
"Indeed."
Steve was interested in spite of himself.
"Yes; I can show you samples that will interest you greatly. If you have a little time I wish you would come up to my room. We can talk to better advantage there than down here, and besides I can show you the samples without a crowd gathering about us."
"I do not know you, sir," answered the lad, with a half smile.
"My name is Driscold, Barney Driscold. I am from Chicago."
"I am glad to meet you, Mr. Driscold," said Rush, extending his hand. "Under the circumstances I shall be glad to see the ore you speak of. I am always willing to look at anything that will add to my store of knowledge."
"I know that. Come with me. I am interested in young men like you. Where is your friend to-night?"
"He has gone to call on another friend."
Steve rose and started after Driscold. The latter did not pass through the lobby of the hotel, but made his way back through the parlor on the ground floor, opening a door that revealed a stairway leading to the floor above. Steve had never been upstairs in the hotel. He did not even know the arrangement of the rooms up there. He was a shrewd boy, and perhaps he was not so much attracted by the promised exhibition of ore as he was by the idea of learning something about Mr. Driscold.
The latter led him down a hall toward the front of the building, then entered a small, cosy parlor, which he had engaged for his use while in the mining town.
"Have a seat," said Driscold cordially, as he turned on the lights, then drew up a chair close to where Steve Rush had seated himself.
"I guess something is going to start in a short time," thought Steve. "Where are the ore samples, sir?" he asked.
Driscold brought out a handful of specimens of copper ore that he had in his bag. These he laid on the little round table that stood at the side of his chair.
Steve picked up the samples. He saw at once that they were inferior samples, not worthy even of passing consideration.
"Where do these samples come from, sir?" he asked, apparently deeply interested.
"From a new mine over in Michigan. I am interested in the mine and I thought you would be interested in the ore we take from it."
"Yes, sir."
"We have some ideal conditions in the mine. Our men are better paid and have shorter hours than you men have up here. You work ten hours here, while our men work only eight."
"Yes, sir."
"I presume that you would like to have shorter hours and get more money at the same time, would you not?"
"That depends," replied Rush evasively.
"Upon what?"
"Oh, it depends upon several things. In what way do you accomplish this in your new copper mine?"
"By organization purely."
"I don't think I quite understand."
"By organization I mean organizing the working men."
"Oh, you mean holding up one's employers; in other words, throttling them and compelling them to grant one's demands. Is that what you mean?" demanded the lad with sharp incisiveness.
"Oh, no, no, no! You misunderstand me. We do nothing of the sort. We——"
Driscold was interrupted by a rap on the door.
"Come in," he called.
A man stepped into the room. Steve could scarce repress an exclamation as he saw and recognized the newcomer.
"I begin to understand what the game is now," thought the boy, as he leaned back in his chair with a smile of recognition on his face.