A HANG-OVER AND A FLAREBACK
"Take the monkey trick," ordered the head melter when Steve reported for
duty at the usual hour.
This meant standing right in front of the furnace much of the time. It
was also the duty of the monkey-man to prod the clay dam with the dolly
when all was ready for a cast, as well as occasionally to prod through
the shell of the furnace above the metal and just below the bustle
pipes, in order to liberate the gases that had formed there.
If anything, it was a worse position than he had yet had. But Steve did
not flinch. He was there to learn all there was to be learned, and he
proposed to do so, whatever the cost to himself.
"I guess I can stand it if others do," he thought when the new detail
was called off. These men were just getting ready to go to work, Steve
had stripped off a good portion of his clothes and donned a light rubber
coat when Jarvis, who had not yet gone to the charging platform, touched
him on the arm.
"What is it?"
"S-h-h! Look out for yourself!" whispered Jarvis.
"I'm going to."
"When you get a chance, without attracting attention, just look behind
you and see who's here."
Rush nodded understandingly and went on with his preparations for the
night's work, while Bob started for the "roof," as he called it. When an
opportunity presented itself so that he could do so naturally, Steve
turned.
He gave a slight start. He found himself looking into the face of his
former pit boss, Watski Kalinski. The latter did not appear to have
observed Steve; at least, he kept his eyes averted until the lad decided
that the fellow was ashamed to look at him.
"I wonder what he is doing here?" muttered Rush.
When he got an opportunity Steve asked the head melter about it, and was
informed that Kalinski was taking the place of a man who had been struck
by the metal train on his way to work that afternoon. Kalinski was an
old furnace man.
Steve nodded his understanding, but still he resolved to keep an eye on
Kalinski. He did not trust the man, knowing well his revengeful nature.
"Next thing I know they will have Foley over here, and then it will be
time to carry a club in my boot, for there'll be something doing at
blast number four."
Nothing did occur, however. The gang made the first cast with success.
Steve still suffered from the heat, but not to the same extent. He was
learning how to favor himself and to save himself, a most necessary part
of the furnace man's work. Kalinski was doing general work about the
furnace, but the Iron Boy did not relax his vigilance. As the evening
wore on he was convinced, from certain sinister glances in his
direction, that the former pit boss was contemplating mischief. It might
not come that night, but it was sure to come sooner or later, and the
boy did not propose to be caught napping if he could help himself. He
had no idea, however, that he would be taken so by surprise as he really
was.
Midnight arrived. Steve stood bravely at his place in front of the
furnace. It was heated through and through, and the metal was running
well. Not a failure or a mishap had occurred to mar the serenity of the
head melter's temper, and his face wore a smile when it was safe to
smile without running the risk of cracking the smile from the heat of
the furnace. During a lull in the work Steve was asking questions about
the operation of the blast furnace. He learned from the head melter that
two tons of ore, as it came from the mines, smelted down to one ton of
pig; that unless the ingredients were exactly right and the boiling done
just right, thousands of tons might be spoiled in casting.
"You have to go by instinct largely," said Pig-Iron Peel. "You can't lay
down any hard and fast rule. The only way is to taste of the metal and
then you know when it's done to a turn."
"Taste of it?" exclaimed Steve. "Excuse me. I have come as near to it as
I want to. I'm not a metal-taster."
Peel laughed.
"I don't mean to drink the stuff down, but tasting with your ears, eyes
and nose; hearing, seeing and smelling--understand?"
"Yes; I catch your meaning."
"When you get to that point you may consider yourself a furnace man. But
it is dangerous business. A man never knows when he's going to get his,
and be dragged out in the wagon. We don't think of it, though. A fellow
gets used to all sorts of dangers, and goodness knows these mills are
full of them. When a fellow gets hurt, however, it's most likely his own
fault. The company does all it can to protect its men."
"So I have observed. Some of its men are more dangerous than the perils
of the mills themselves," answered Steve with a laugh.
"I reckon you are right at that. You're learning the whole business,
ain't you?"
"I am trying to."
"Then you've bit off a full mouthful. Going to the open hearths from
here?"
"I do not know; I am going wherever I am put."
"That's the usual way they promote from here, and so on into the mills
themselves. Where'd you begin?"
Rush told him, relating his experiences in the pit, but mentioning no
names. Pig-Iron Peel's face grew black with righteous indignation as he
listened to the recital.
"Who was the fiend?" he demanded.
"I am not going to tell you."
"He ought to be whaled with a red hot angle bar, until there wasn't a
piece of skin left on him as big as a bolt-head. I'd like to get the
duffer in my hands just once--only once--that would be enough for a
starter from me. The pup!"
Peel had raised his voice to a high pitch. Steve glanced over toward
Watski Kalinski. The latter was regarding Peel and Rush angrily. It was
quite evident that either he had caught the drift of the conversation
by hearing some of the words, or else he suspected the truth from their
actions.
"I wish you'd tell me who it was, Rush."
"No, I could not think of doing that. He has been pretty well punished
already, and he is likely to get worse if he tries any more of his
tricks. Jarvis gave him an awful whaling, you know."
Rush raised his voice so that Kalinski could not help hearing every word
this time.
"He did, eh?"
"Yes."
"Is Jarvis much of a scrapper?"
"He is a whirlwind."
"Good for him! I'll get him off the charging platform and give him
something better down here," said the head melter, as he nodded
approvingly over what Steve had told him.
"That's the kind of a boy for me. No, I don't mean because he fights. I
got no use for a brawler, but because he can be a man when he gets up
against the real thing. Tell me about that mix-up."
This Steve did, including the kicking of Brodsky, which really led to
the interference of Jarvis. Peel stamped about on the fire brick of the
platform, his anger growing momentarily.
"The whelp! The miserable cur! He'd better not show his face around
these furnaces. I'll break every bone in his miserable no-account body.
Tell me who he is! Tell me who he is!"
"Not now. Perhaps some other time. The man might not like to hear it,
you know."
Peel regarded his young charge suspiciously.
"Isn't it about time we made a cast? The ore smells to me as if it were
about ready."
Pig-Iron sniffed the air with a snort.
"Get ready for a cast!" he bellowed. "Boy, you'll do. You've got the
nose that smells, you have. Heave up that dolly bar. How's them gutters?
You, Kalinski, there, see that slag trough is open. Bud, get your
cinder-ladle ready. Come, now, the whole bunch of you is half-asleep.
Anybody'd think you'd been out to a party all day long. Come, Rush!"
"I am here, sir."
"Git that dolly against the furnace dam, and get ready to jump when
things are hot enough."
"I will jump, never you fear," answered Steve laughing.
The Iron Boy turned his back to the men and placed the dolly bar against
the clay dam after facing the glaring heat at close range long enough to
place the end of the bar on exactly the right spot.
"All ready, sir."
"Drive it! Steady there," warned the voice of the head melter. "Keep
watch, Rush, and sing out when you get enough."
After a moment the compressed air drill was put on, and after wearing
the dam thin, the dolly was once more resorted to as that could be
withdrawn much more quickly than could the compressed air drill. Haste
was necessary, or the lives of the men would be in great peril in case
the molten metal squirted from the dam around the sides of the dolly.
The furnace men, especially those on the tapping job, would be likely to
get the full charge in their faces.
"Clank, clank, clank!" sounded the steel mall as it beat against the end
of the bar held by Steve.
"Tap lighter," ordered the boy.
The sound of the blows grew fainter.
"That will do. We can poke out the opening after we step to one side. We
shall then----"
"Bang!"
The mall struck the end of the dolly a terrific blow. The bar was driven
through the thin shell of dolmite right into the hot metal of the
furnace.
Like a projectile the dolly was wrenched from the hands of the Iron Boy.
It was shot through the air, right past him at tremendous speed.
Steve was about to shout, "Stop it!" but he was too late. The bar of
iron was soaring out over the mill yard. The head melter's voice was
raised above the din.
"Who did that? Who hit that bar?"
But Steve did not hear. For a brief second after the escape of the dolly
he stood still on the bushing. With an angry hiss a stream of white hot
metal shot past his head as though projected through the nozzle of a
hose. It was a narrow escape, for, if the metal had struck him in the
face, it would have gone clear through him.
A dull report sounded in the furnace itself.
"Look out for the flareback!" roared Pig-Iron Peel. "Run for it!"
Now a new sound smote their ears. It was a rumbling noise that seemed to
start away down in the foundations of the blast furnace, working upward
at a rapid rate.
Steve, who had quickly leaped from his dangerous position, glanced at
the head melter inquiringly, as if to ask what this new thing might be.
"It's a hang-over!" shouted the melter. "Now we are in for it!"