The Iron Boys in the Steel Mills Part 8

Bob Jarvis had put too much water on the pit. The sudden contraction, down deep among the hot slag and cinders, had caused a tremendous explosion, wreaking disaster for many feet on either side of the pit.

Kalinski, in all probability, knew what would happen when he gave Jarvis permission to soak down the cinders, and no doubt that was why the boss made such haste to get away from the spot. If he were not there, he could not be held responsible for what had occurred.

Fire spurted from the miniature volcano. Crash after crash followed, as parts of furnaces close by toppled over, though fortunately the inside walls of the furnaces did not fall and liberate their tons of molten metal. Many lives would have been lost had that occurred. However, the disaster was serious enough as it was, and several men had been injured.

The red light was displayed at the top of the open-hearth building, but this time it was another than Steve Rush who was hurrying to the scene to gather the facts and give orders for the care of the injured.

Steve was near the bottom of number seven pit with cinders and slag raining down on him in a perfect deluge. The lad instinctively pulled his cap visor down over his eyes to keep the stuff from getting into his eyes or burning his face. He had no idea what had happened, beyond the fact that there had been some sort of explosion.

With quick presence of mind he grabbed up the plank, standing it against the side of the pit and began to climb. Quick as he was, he was not quick enough to get clear of the shower. It enveloped him; it choked and half smothered him as he fought manfully to gain the top of the pit.

"It's gripping me," thought the lad. "I'll have a time getting out of this now."

The stuff was up to his knees, Rush meantime kicking out vigorously, pulling himself up inch by inch by sheer strength of arms and hands. Had he not been such a muscular lad he would have been at the bottom of the pit at that moment, probably dead.

The cinders and slag gained the boy's waist. He was nearing the top, but now he could make little or no impression. He shouted for help, but in the confusion none heard his call.

Steve kept struggling. He would never give up as long as there was a single breath left in him. Finally, however, he found that he was making absolutely no progress. The grip of the cinder and slag was getting tighter and tighter as the stuff was packed about him.

Suddenly through the pall of smoke and dirt a human face appeared, peering over into the pit. There was a bandage about the head of the man who was looking down into number seven.

"Is that you, Rush?" called a familiar voice.

"Ye-yes," answered the lad, scarcely above a whisper, for he was fast giving out. "Who--who are you? Help--help me out. I'm fa-fast and I--I'm burning u----"

"This is Ignatz Brodsky. Sure, I help you. Reach up your hands. You must make hurry. We both get buried alive in the hot stuff."

Steve stretched up his arms to the boy Ignatz, who had that morning come out of the hospital and gone to work in the mill where he was employed on a furnace a short distance down the line from where the Iron Boys worked.

Ignatz knew whose pit had blown up. He knew that Steve was in an adjoining one, because from where he was shoveling he had seen Rush go down into the cinder hole a little while before the explosion occurred.

As for Bob Jarvis, he had not been seen since the black column had lifted him from the floor.

Young Brodsky grasped the outstretched hands and began tugging with all his might. All his efforts were unavailing. Steve was being buried deeper and deeper every second.

"Hang on--I get somebody!" exclaimed Ignatz, darting away through the black cloud.

Kalinski, now running here and there, apparently very much upset over the disaster, was the first man the Pole met.

"Come quick!" he demanded, breathing hard.

"What do you want?" snarled Watski.

"The pit! There's a man in there and he can't get out!"

"Who is it?"

"Rush. He die pretty soon if we no get him out."

"Go on! Get him out yourself. I've got plenty on my hands. I'll help you when I can get to it. There are others here who need me. Go along, now, and get the crazy fool out," added the pit boss, turning away.

Ignatz did not seem surprised. He appeared more disappointed than otherwise. That one of his countrymen should be so heartless made no great impression on the boy. What he was concerned in now was finding some one who would help him get his young friend out of the pit.

Brodsky ran here and there, with the result that he at last found two mill hands who hurried to the pit with him. It was no easy task, even for them, to get Steve out. The Iron Boy was still conscious, but he was quite seriously burned about the body. Fortunately he had saved his head and face from being very badly scarred.

After nearly pulling the boy's arms from his shoulders, working him from side to side as they would a post that they were trying to pull out of the ground, the men dragged him to safety.

"We take him to hospital," nodded Brodsky.

"Is the ambulance here?"

Ignatz nodded, whereupon the men carried Steve out and placed him in an ambulance. A second ambulance had just arrived, so the surgeon of that made a quick emergency dressing of the lad's burns, directing him to remain in the ambulance. Rush felt no inclination to do otherwise at that moment.

"Ignatz," he called.

"What is it?"

"I want you to find Bob."

"Where?"

"I don't know."

"Mebby Bob is killed."

"Wait! Tell me what happened."

"The pit he blow up."

"What pit?"

"Number eight."

"Oh, that was the one Bob was sprinkling?"

"Yes. Put too much water on. Bang!" exclaimed Ignatz, striking a dramatic att.i.tude.

"Then he is surely killed or badly injured. Run, Ignatz! Find him. Don't you come back here until you have."

"Ignatz find him," answered the Pole, darting back into the building, from which a dense cloud of smoke was rolling through the crevices in the roof and from the doors and windows.

No sooner had Brodsky left him than Steve pulled himself up and peered out. There was no one in sight, so he slipped from the ambulance. He was barely able to stand alone, and for a moment clung to a rear wheel of the wagon for support.

The boy's burns hurt him so that he winced. Every movement made him want to groan, but he shut his lips tightly together and by sheer force of will pulled himself up.

"I'm going in to look for Bob," he muttered, starting unsteadily for the door of the mill.

The smoke was still so thick that Rush could not make out much of anything. He staggered along until he reached the spot where the explosion had occurred. There he found the accident man gathering his facts.

"h.e.l.lo, Rus.h.!.+ You're hurt, aren't you?"