The Iron Boys in the Mines Part 3

Shrieking railroad engines were das.h.i.+ng into the yards, dragging from them loads of ore that would be rushed to waiting ore boats on the Great Lakes, to be conveyed thence to the great steel mills in the east. The cars were being loaded by machinery and with such speed as to cause the watcher to gasp with amazement.

"This is wonderful," Steve cried, carried away by his enthusiasm. "This is the life for me! I never dreamed it was so splendid."

It was, indeed, a world pulsating with opportunities for him who possessed the pluck to fight his way to the front. In a vague sort of way, Steve Rush seemed to realize this.

"Some day I shall be at the head of one of these great industries!" he breathed. "I, too, will be a captain of industry! I'll never give up until I am--until I have learned all that can be learned about this wonderful industry."

The afternoon drew to a close all too soon for Steve, and not until the whistle blew at six o'clock and the miners in their oilskins came streaming up from their underground haunts, did the lad make up his mind to leave. With a sigh, he turned away, starting thoughtfully for the boarding house.

Just before sitting down to supper he was introduced to a Cornishman, who, he was told, was to be his roommate. When Steve had taken his place at the table he found himself sitting opposite a boy whom he judged to be about his own age. This boy, however, was taller and much more rugged looking than was Steve.

The latter saw the lad eyeing him inquiringly.

"What's your name, boy?" finally demanded the larger of the two, pointing a spoon at Steve.

"Stephen Rush."

"Rush?"

"Yes."

"That's a funny name. Do you hear that, fellows?"

"I do not see anything so very funny about it," replied Steve, his face flus.h.i.+ng ever so little. "What is your name?"

"Mine? I'm Bob Jarvis. But, judging from your name, you must be one of those fellows who is always in a hurry. Does your mamma know you're here?"

"She does," answered Steve gravely.

"Is she a Rusher, too?"

"Her name is Rush, if that is what you mean."

"Well, what do you think of that? His mother's Rush and she's a Rusher, too. That must be a pretty lively family," scoffed Jarvis. "Why, I'll bet----"

"You will please leave my mother's name out of your talk," commanded Steve quietly, directing a level gaze at Jarvis.

"Touchy, eh? Do you hear that, fellows?"

If the miners did hear they were much too busy with their suppers to give the matter much attention.

"Little Miss Hurry-up is going to get in a huff. But never mind, Rusher, I guess you're right at that. I had a mother once myself, but that don't stop me from saying whatever I want to you."

"Say what you wish to, so long as you confine your talk to myself,"

replied Steve. "What you say about me doesn't matter much, anyway. For that matter, I do not think your remarks are of very great consequence, whatever subject you may be discussing."

"What's that?"

"I think you heard what I said."

"What do you mean, young fellow?"

"If you don't understand, I shall try to make it plainer. I mean to say that you act like a rowdy. I shouldn't be surprised if you are one."

Bob Jarvis half rose from his chair. The smile had left his face, giving place to an angry scowl.

"So, you--you are looking for fight, eh?" he demanded, thrusting his chin forward belligerently.

"No, sir; I am not." Steve did not even look up as he made the reply, but calmly proceeded with his supper.

"Well, you've got to fight, whether you are looking for it or not. I'll show you that you can't hand out a line of talk like that to Bob Jarvis," growled the larger boy, starting for the head of the table, around which he would have to go to reach Steve.

"Stow your sc.r.a.pping and give us a chance to eat our suppers," growled one of the miners.

"Yes, we'll throw both of you out first thing you know," added another.

"If you want to fight, why don't you have it out before you come to the table?"

Jarvis gave no heed to the warnings. He was bent on punis.h.i.+ng the boy on the other side of the table who had defied him. Just as he was pa.s.sing the head of the table, a heavy hand gripped his collar, sending Bob spinning back toward his seat.

"Sit down!" bellowed a voice.

The boarding boss straightened up threateningly. It was he who had checked the pugnacious Bob Jarvis, and just in time to prevent a lively fight in the miners' boarding house. Bob fell rather than sat down in his chair.

"If you want to fight, go out doors. But if you do fight, I'll report you both to the superintendent," warned the boss, resuming his seat.

Bob sulked in his chair, while Steve Rush, appearing to take not the least bit of interest in the disturbance, went on with his supper unmoved.

"I'll make you take that back when I catch you outside, one of these fine days, Miss Hurry-up," threatened Bob in a low tone, leaning over the table with one eye on the boarding house boss.

"Yes?"

"Yes, I will. I dare you to meet me over by the dry house after supper.

I promise you I will take it out of your hide."

"No, thank you," replied Steve dryly, with a slight shrug of the shoulders.

"You won't?"

"No, I will not."

"Afraid, eh?"

"Yes; afraid I might lose some sleep. I am going to bed after supper. I have work on hand to-morrow and I don't care to spoil my chances by getting into a row to-night. Besides, I am not a fighter. I am here for business."

"Fellows, I told you he was a missie. I see I've got to take you in hand, Rush. You'll never make a miner until you've been properly trimmed, and I'm the boy who's taken the contract to do the job. I----"

"Jarvis, that will be about enough for the present," warned the boarding house boss from the head of the table.