HANDLING THE RED ORE
"Why, boy, you couldn't stand up for an hour down below ground."
Ike Penton, general superintendent of the Cousin Jack Mine, smiled
indulgently into the eager face of Steve Rush.
"It's a man's work, not a boy's work. Mr. Carrhart's letter gives you a
fine endorsement. He seems to think you have the making of a miner in
you, and acting on his judgment, I shall of course give you a chance."
"Thank you, sir. You will try to place me down in one of the mines, will
you not?"
"No; I shall not take the responsibility of doing so just at the present
moment. I shall use you above ground for a few days, until I see what
you are best fitted to do, and then--but mind you, I am not making any
promises--I will see what can be done for you."
The superintendent smiled indulgently. He was a man of kindly impulses
and he had boys of his own. Then, too, he remembered the day, many years
before, when he, also, had sought employment in the iron mines. By sheer
pluck he had worked his way up from the ranks, until now he was the
head of an army of more than five thousand men, distributed among the
various mines.
"Yes, I will see what can be done for you," repeated the superintendent.
"Thank you, sir; but I wish you might find a place for me down in the
mines."
"Why are you so anxious to get below ground, my lad?"
"So that I may begin my apprenticeship at once."
"When will you be ready to go to work?"
"I am ready now," answered Steve promptly.
"The day is well along. Report here at seven o'clock to-morrow morning,
and I will place you at something. Your pay, to begin, will be a dollar
a day. Here is the address of a boarding house that I should advise you
to put up at, unless you already have made arrangements."
"No, sir."
"Very well. Report to the boarding house boss some time to-day and he
will see that you are taken care of. There are very good boys there, and
you will learn considerable about the business of mining from them. Let
me advise you, however, not to mix in too much with the foreign element.
Let them alone and you will find they will do the same with you. Pay
strict attention to duty, be punctual and work, and you will get along.
Our discipline is strict, but we have the interests of our men at heart.
In so far as they will let us, we make their well-being our first care.
Here is a copy of the rules governing the conduct of men in all
departments. Study it well to-day and come back here to-morrow morning
at the hour named."
Briefly thanking the superintendent, Steve left the mine office at Iron
Mountain and proceeded to the boarding house. There he was assigned to a
room in which were cots for two men. The place was neat and clean,
though extremely plain. There were no evidences of luxury in the
furnishings, and when he sat down to his first meal there he found the
food plain but wholesome; the miners mostly silent and in a great hurry
to have done with their meal. Considering how they bolted their food,
Steve did not understand how any of them managed to keep out of the
hospital.
"It's a wonder they don't all have chronic indigestion," he thought.
No one paid any attention to the quiet youth, after the first careless
glance at him, as the men took their places at the table. The lad did
not care particularly. He was rather glad that they did leave him wholly
to himself until he should become better acquainted with his
surroundings.
What Steve was curious about, however, was who his roommate was to be.
When he asked the boarding house boss about this the boy was told to
wait until night, when he would see for himself. After that Steve asked
no more questions.
After dinner young Rush went out to wander about and get acquainted with
his surroundings. Iron Mountain, the town in which was located the mine
where he was to work, was a village of about seventeen hundred
inhabitants, nestling between two high ranges of mountains. The timber
had been cut off, and wherever the eye chanced to rest it was met by a
forest of black stumps, with here and there the shaft of an iron mine
rising dark and gloomy.
It was the most cheerless scene that Steve Rush had ever gazed upon. The
buildings in the village proper were mostly mere shacks, the public
school being the only building worthy of a name in the entire community.
The streets of the town were deserted, but beneath them, far down in the
earth, men toiled and burrowed by day and by night, penetrating deeper
and deeper into the earth in their quest for Nature's riches.
The lad was lonely. He would have been homesick had he not been
possessed of the grit to keep his emotions in check. But as he strolled
over toward the towering, gloomy mine shafts he began to realize that
he was at the very fountain head of the greatest steel industry in the
world. From the quiet of the little mining village he had come upon a
scene of work the like of which he had never seen before.
As he gazed, the great ore cars shot up from the mines with a roar.
Leaping to the top of the high shaft, they hurled their cargoes of red
ore into waiting dump cars, then dropped back below ground with a speed
almost too great for the human eye to follow. Men red with the metal
they were handling were laboring on the surface, their faces streaked
with perspiration, their rolled-up sleeves and open-necked shirts
displaying the brawn and muscle without which the great steel company
would quickly lose its greatness.
Shrieking railroad engines were dashing 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
flushing 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 scrapping 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 punishing the boy on
the other side of the table who had defied him. Just as he was passing
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.
"Can't a fellow have a little fun without being called down?" demanded
Bob in a tone of disgust.
"Yes; have all the fun you want, but don't pick on a boy who isn't your
size. You, boy down there, what did you say your name is?"
"Stephen Rush."
"Well, Steve, don't be afraid of Jarvis. His bark is much worse than his
bite."
"I am not afraid of him, sir."
"If he bothers you here, let me know. If you have any trouble outside,
report it to the superintendent or to your foreman. Where are you going
to work?"
"I don't know, sir. I have not been assigned. I thank you, but I think I
shall be able to take care of myself without reporting to anyone," added
Rush, flashing a significant glance at Bob Jarvis. The latter started to
make some reply, but checked himself sharply.
From that time on the meal proceeded without further disturbance. Just
as they were leaving the table, however, Jarvis edged over to where
Steve was standing, waiting for those ahead of him to pass through the
narrow door.
"I hope you get in my shift," he whispered in Steve's ear.
"Why?"
"Because I'll have a chance to teach you a few things."
"Then I hope I do," answered the lad in his soft voice. "I want to learn
all I can, you know."
Bob's face wrinkled into a scowl. He was not certain whether Steve
really meant what he said or whether he was poking fun at him.
Early on the following morning Steve reported to the office of the
superintendent. To his disappointment he was assigned to the ore dump.
This is a great pile of ore dumped on the surface by a tram car as the
ore is brought up from the mine in a skip, or ore elevator. Steve's
particular duty was to stand at the outer end of the track and shovel
the ore away from the track after each carload had been dumped.
It was not a comfortable place to stand, for a misstep would precipitate
him down the sloping end of the ore dump to the ground some forty feet
below.
On this dump the ore car was pushed by hand, whereas on others it was
operated by electricity. Steve had received his instructions from the
dump boss, so, with a shovel in his hands, he stood awaiting the first
carload of ore.
At last it came on with a bump and a crunch, groaning and threatening to
jump the rails with each revolution of its wheels.
Steve sprang to one side as he saw the car approaching, believing for
the minute that the tram was going to run him down and plunge over the
end of the dump. Should such be the case, the tram would surely carry
him down with it, so he had lost no time in getting out of the way.
"Hi, there! Look out where you are going! You'll run off the track!"
shouted the lad in a warning tone.
But the tram did not run off. It came to a slow stop; then, instead of
discharging its cargo over the end of the pile, the end of the car's box
suddenly swung around toward Steve. There followed a quick, sharp,
metallic clang. Steve Rush went down with the contents of the car
falling all about him in a red, suffocating shower, burying him nearly
to his neck. Some of the ore rolled down the side of the dump, and the
lad would have followed had he not been held fast by the dirt about him.
His body was bruised in spots where unbroken chunks had bombarded him;
his hair, mouth, eyes and nose were full of the stuff, and he found
himself scarcely able to breathe.
For a moment the boy was at a loss to understand what had happened. By
industrious blinking and rubbing of his eyes he managed presently to
take account of his surroundings.
Steve struggled with all his might to free himself. He was unable to do
so.
"He--help!" he shouted. "I--I'm bu--buried up to my chin and I'm getting
in deeper all the time. Help me to get out of this!"
"Hello, there! What's the matter?" questioned a jeering voice. "Why,
upon my word, if it isn't Little Miss Rush."
Steve recognized the voice as belonging to Bob Jarvis.
"It's you, is it, Jarvis? Well, help me out of this and I will talk with
you. I shall have a few things to say to you, too, when we get a chance
to talk----"
"Why, sure, I'll help you out. How did you happen to get in the way of
that dump?"
"Never mind how. I believe you did that on purpose, Bob Jarvis, and you
will have to answer to me for it," declared Steve Rush in a resolute
tone.