The Iron Boys in the Mines Part 8

"I tell you he is hurt. Lend a hand here!" commanded the boy sternly.

Something in his tone led the others to obey his order promptly. They gathered up Contractor Spooner and carried him over to where the light from the candles could be thrown on his face.

"Douse him with a pail of water," suggested the drill-man.

Someone quickly adopted the suggestion, with the result that Spooner sat up almost at once, choking, roaring and threatening between his gasps for breath.

"Who--who did it? Who did it?" snarled the contractor, struggling to his feet. "Who hit me?"

The man's hat had fallen from his head, and for the moment Steve did not answer. He was too fully absorbed in gazing at the harsh face of the man before him.

Balanced on Spooner's tall, angular body was a round, bullet-like head, with a rim of reddish-gray hair. His lips were protruding, sagging at each corner, while the lids over his prominent eyes blinked as though trying to run a race with each other.

"Who did it, I say?" roared the contractor, fixing his angry eyes upon the face of Steve Rush.

"I am afraid I am the guilty one, sir. But it was an accident. I will tell you how it occurred. I----"

Spooner gave the lad no opportunity to explain. Instead, the contractor, with an angry imprecation, started for Rush.

Steve's mind worked quickly. He was not afraid; he was considering whether it were best to run or to stand his ground, and he decided upon the latter.

"Stand back! Don't you touch me! I tell you it was an accident!" shouted the boy.

The contractor was too enraged to listen to reason, and as he sprang for Rush he thrust forth his long arms to grab the boy.

Spooner got a blow on the nose that sent him staggering backward, but Steve did not follow up the advantage he had gained. He could not expect to prove a match for the powerful miner, and perhaps he would not have been able to hit the latter as he did had the other been looking for anything of the sort. Spooner was more surprised than hurt.

"If you will wait, sir, I will explain. I am sorry I fell on you and sorry I had to hit you, but you mustn't lay your hands on me. You must----"

All work in drift seventeen had been suspended for the moment, and even the diamond drills had ceased their bang, bang, bang. Every man in the drift, save Spooner himself, had uttered a yell of delight when he saw the young miner's st.u.r.dy punch.

"Look out, lad; he's coming for you again. Spooner, remember he's a boy; don't do anything you'll be sorry for. You'll be----"

The contractor had started for young Rush again.

"Get out of here!" roared the man. "Out of here before I wring your miserable neck!"

Steve s.n.a.t.c.hed up an iron bar that the trammers used to fasten the catches on the cars. He raised the bar over his shoulder.

"If you try to touch me I'll hit you, sir," said the lad in a tone so polite and pleasant that Spooner paused in amazement, then uttered a hoa.r.s.e guffaw. Nevertheless he halted where he was, for he saw an expression in the eyes of the boy before him which spelled trouble.

Furthermore, Spooner knew how strict the rules of the mine were, and now that he had had an opportunity to get control of himself he decided not to throw the young man out bodily.

"Get out of here before I help you, then. I can't stand everything. Go to work, you lazy louts! What do you mean by standing around on my time?

I'll dock every man of you an hour's pay. Start those drills. Trammers, off with you. Are you going, boy?"

"No, sir."

"You're not going?"

"No, sir; I am going to work here."

"Oh, you are, eh? Well, I think I shall have something to say about that. You're not going to work here, and I should like to know what you are doing down in this mine, anyway. I'll have the mine captain put you out. It's my opinion that you are not here for any good, and you're lucky if he doesn't turn you over to the mine police."

"I have been a.s.signed to work in this drift. The superintendent ordered me to report to you, sir. I am ready to go to work."

The contractor gazed at the boy with a puzzled expression on his face.

"You, a boy like you, work here? Pooh! What do you think this is, a kindergarten?"

"I am able to do a day's work; besides, it is the superintendent's orders, sir."

Spooner knew the boy had the best of him there. The superintendent's orders were to be obeyed, no matter if Spooner was mining on a contract agreement.

"Very well; if you want to work you shall have all the work you can do.

I'll see the superintendent about your case when I go up to-day noon."

"What shall I do?"

"Do? Don't you see anything to do?"

"I see some things I should like to do," answered Steve Rush in a significant tone, eyeing the contractor steadily.

"Get hold of that shovel. I can't break your head as I ought to do, but the shovel will break your back before you get through with this day's work."

Steve grasped the shovel and began throwing the ore into the waiting car.

Spooner eyed the lad narrowly for a few moments. He was obliged to admit that Rush handled the shovel as well as any man he had ever had in his gang.

"You ought to be in the bull gang," jeered the contractor. "Yes, sir, you are wasting your talents working in an ore drift."

"What is a bull gang?" questioned the lad between shovels.

"That is the gang that s.h.i.+fts the timber down into the mine," answered the man shoveling by Steve's side. "The timber-men below take the stuff and build the supports and the lagging to keep the levels from caving in, you know."

"Where's your candle?" demanded Spooner. "You're a nice sort of a miner to come to work without a candle in your stick!"

"I lost it. You see, I lost my way and had a time getting here,"

explained Steve.

"Get one when you go up to-day noon. And remember you get only two hours' pay for the forenoon. If you're ever late like this again you are through right then and there."

Steve did not answer. He shoveled with all his might.

"Ready for the powder," called the head drill-man.

All the men save Steve and the powder-man laid down their tools and moved off. The boy continued at his work, his shovel making a steady sc.r.a.pe, sc.r.a.pe as he threw the ore up into the car.

In the meantime the powder-man was adjusting a charge of dynamite in each of the holes in the ore made by the drills.