The Iron Boys in the Mines Part 31

The gentleman referred to, a vice-president of the company, promptly stepped back, glancing at the floor almost apprehensively. This brought another laugh from the visitors.

"Come here, gentlemen," said Mr. Carrhart, "and I will show you where this young man fell in. I do not think we should be alive now had we been through that experience."

The president threw open the door leading into the skip shaft. The others had stepped up to him, but as the skips thundered past them, leaping for the surface, faintly outlined monsters as they shot by, the members of the party instinctively drew back, casting wondering glances at the keen-faced boy who stood calmly, almost indifferently, looking into the shaft.

Mr. Carrhart was explaining to them how the accident had occurred.

"Excuse me," said Mr. Cary. "I think I should prefer to be run over by a touring car on Broadway."

"And so should I," chorused the others, with the exception of Mr.

Carrhart, who smiled grimly.

A lunch had been prepared for the guests and they were to eat in the mine, on the platform by the tally-boards and the chutes. Tables were being set, and by the time the visitors had turned away from the shaft opening they were invited to be seated on the benches drawn up for the purpose.

Steve and Bob stood talking with Mr. Carrhart, the president asking many questions.

"Come, Carrhart," called one of the others.

"I will be with you in a moment. Don't wait for me. Rush, how would you like to come to headquarters at the end of your year in the mines?"

"You mean to take a position there?"

"Yes."

The lad reflected for a moment.

"Would you advise me to do that, sir?" questioned Rush, looking Mr.

Carrhart squarely in the eye.

"So you are putting it up to me, are you, you young rascal?" laughed the president.

"You know best, sir."

"The question is, would you like to come into the offices?"

"I am afraid I should not be worth much there. I think, sir, that I like the activity of this life better, so long as you have asked me. It is a rough, hard life, but I am happy here and I hope to learn the business so well that in time I shall be fit for a higher position."

"I don't think there is any doubt about that, my lad. By all means remain here. I shall have an eye in your direction, as I have had ever since I sent you up here. Good afternoon, boys; the gentlemen are waiting for me."

While this conversation was in progress an Italian was making his way down level seventeen. Over his back he carried a bag, the ends of which, fas.h.i.+oned into a loop, had been fastened in front of him, pa.s.sing around his neck. The fellow was plodding half sleepily along, his boots slopping in the water beside the track as he staggered under his heavy burden.

When near the chute a man suddenly appeared behind him, paused an instant, then walked swiftly away. A few seconds more and the Italian appeared pa.s.sing the chute.

"Look!" exclaimed Bob. "Great goodness! Look at that!"

Steve Rush did look. One look was enough. With a sudden exclamation he sprang for the slow-moving Italian, leaping the chutes at the risk of his life. The lad knew that the lives of every man there were in peril.

By quick work only could he save them, and perhaps not then.

CHAPTER XIX

FACING A GREAT PERIL

Bob Jarvis was after him with a bound.

The lads had seen a little tongue of flame creeping up the sides of the bag on the back of the Italian.

Mr. Penton saw it also, as did the president of the company. The two men understood the situation as fully as did the lads themselves, but the others of the company were laughing and chatting, unmindful of the dire peril that was threatening them. Mr. Carrhart and Mr. Penton half rose from their seats, their faces blanching noticeably.

Steve by this time had reached the Italian burden-bearer. Stretching forth his hands, he grasped the bag, giving it a powerful tug. The Italian toppled over backwards, the loop slipping over his head, leaving the sack and its contents in the hands of Steve Rush.

In the meantime the attention of the visitors had been attracted. They discovered all at once that something unusual was taking place.

"h.e.l.lo, what's this--a fight?" cried Mr. Cary.

Those who knew did not answer. They stood with pale faces, wide-eyed, watching the efforts of the Iron Boys.

No sooner had Steve gotten possession of the bag than the Italian leaped to his feet. With an angry imprecation, he sprang at Steve, knife in hand.

But Jarvis was watching him. The boy made a leap, landing a powerful blow with his fist on the back of the Italian's head. The man collapsed in a heap. Bob was down on his knees beside his companion in an instant.

Steve had thrown the burning bag into the gutter extending along the track, where there trickled a little stream of water that had been turned a dull red by the iron ore. There was little water there, but Rush was scooping up what there was of the water and mud, and with it patting out the fire in the sack.

Bob began doing the same, but now little flames were starting up all over the bag.

"Beat it out with your hands!" cried Steve. "It's getting the best of us. If it reaches the fuses, we're done for!"

"Skip, Steve; let me do it."

Rush did not answer. He was beating a tattoo on the bag, now and then grabbing up a handful of mud and water to soothe the hands which were already quite badly burned.

"It's out," announced Bob at last.

The Iron Boys' prompt action had prevented the fuses from igniting. All this had occupied but a few seconds. Instinctively the visitors realized that something was wrong, but they did not understand what that something was.

Steve rolled the bag over two or three times, soaking it as well as he could with the little water at hand. He then opened the mouth of the sack, emptying the contents into the gutter and soaking that with water.

This done, he threw the sack away and straightened up, his face flushed from his exertions.

The Italian was just getting to his feet unsteadily, but there was an angry light in his eyes.

Steve pointed to the sack.

"How did that happen?" demanded the lad.

"Me not know," was the answer, with a shrug of the shoulders. "Why you hit me?"