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.
"Hello, 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?"
"Why did I hit you?" repeated Bob. "If I hadn't you'd been sailing
skyward by this time."
The Italian started away, muttering sullenly. Steve stepped forward,
laying a restraining hand on the man's arm.
"Wait a minute. I want to talk with you."
Mr. Carrhart sat down on the bench rather heavily, wiping the
perspiration from his forehead.
"Now, Carrhart, perhaps you will tell us the meaning of this remarkable
scene," said Mr. Cary. "Something is up. I have a suspicion."
"Yes, you are right; something is up--or _was_. Do you gentlemen know
what was in that bag that you saw on fire just now?"
"No."
"It was dynamite," said the president in an impressive tone.
"Dynamite!" exclaimed the visitors in one voice.
"Yes. How much was there in the bag, Mr. Penton?" asked Mr. Carrhart.
"I should judge there were a dozen charges; about fifty pounds, I should
say."
The blanched faces of the visitors evidenced their understanding.
"Enough to blow us into kingdom come," added the superintendent.
"Then--then those boys have saved our lives?"
"They have," said Mr. Penton.
"Yes, and that act of theirs is sufficient to earn for them the Medal of
Honor. I never knew of a braver act," added the president. "Rush, come
here! Jarvis, I want you, too."
The boys obeyed the command, Steve leading the unwilling Italian around
the chutes to the platform, where he stood him against the wall.
"You stay there until you are wanted!" ordered the boy, at which Mr.
Penton nodded his approval.
The visitors crowded forward, expressing their admiration at the bravery
of the Iron Boys, at the same time plying them with eager questions.
"How did you ever have the courage to do it?" questioned one man.
"Because I didn't want to be blown up," answered Steve simply, at which
the tension was relieved and everyone laughed.
"What I should like to know," exclaimed Mr. Carrhart, "is how this
affair occurred--how did that bag of dynamite chance to catch fire?"
"From the Italian's candle, of course," said Mr. Cary. "I always have
considered those open lights dangerous, especially where high explosives
are used. We should have enclosed lights, the same as they do in the
coal mines."
"What do you think about it, Rush?" asked the president, turning to the
young man inquiringly.
"It did not catch from the man's candle, sir," answered the lad
confidently.
"You think not?"
"I am sure of it, sir."
"What makes you think it did not?"
"Because the candle was on the front of his cap. It is there now, as you
can see for yourself. The fire, when I first saw it, was burning at the
bottom of the bag on the man's back. I do not see, by any stretch of the
imagination, how the candle could have fired the cloth."
"You're right."
"Mr. Penton, would you like to question the man?" asked Steve, nodding
toward the Italian.
"Yes. Come here, Dominick."
The Italian obeyed with sullenness.
"How did this thing happen, Dominick?"
"Me not know."
"You did not have your candle in your hand at any time, did you?"
"Me have candle in hat."
"Was it there when you picked up the bag?"
"Yes."
"You are sure of that?"
"Me sure."
"May I ask a question?" inquired Steve.
"Certainly."
"Did you pass or meet anyone just before you reached the chutes here?"
"Me not meet any one."
"I don't understand this at all," said Mr. Penton. "Dominick is
trustworthy, so far as I am aware. At least no charges ever have been
made against him."
"He seemed to me to be pretty handy with his knife," suggested the
president. "I shouldn't want to trust a man very far who acted that way,
would you, Rush?"
"Well, no, sir; but I shouldn't accuse him of setting fire to a bag of
dynamite, then calmly shouldering the bag and marching off. At least,
not unless he was determined to commit suicide."
There was a hearty laugh, this time at the expense of the president.
"There's good logic in that, at any rate," agreed Mr. Carrhart.
Steve was studying the face of the Italian keenly. This Mr. Carrhart
observed and nodded significantly to Superintendent Penton. But Steve
could not make up his mind that Dominick was in any way to blame for
what had barely missed being a great disaster.
Both lads were puzzled. They could not understand it at all.
"Perhaps a spark dropped from the trolley wire, thus firing the bag,"
suggested the superintendent, after briefly turning the question over in
his mind.
"That is a plausible explanation," said Mr. Carrhart, "and for want of a
better one we shall have to let it go at that. Yes, I think that must be
the explanation."
The party decided that they had seen enough of the Cousin Jack for one
day. Some of the officials were more anxious to get out of the place
than they cared to admit. They were not used to having their luncheons
interrupted by fifty-pound sacks of dynamite catching fire.
Each, before leaving, stepped up and shook hands with the Iron Boys.
"I want to see you before I leave the range," said Mr. Carrhart as he
bade Steve good-bye.
"Yes, sir," answered the boy, touching his hat, as he stepped to one
side to permit the visitors to pass around the chute.
"We must do something for those boys," said Mr. Cary to the president.
"Yes," agreed Mr. Carrhart.
"They are doing something for themselves, gentlemen," returned the
superintendent. "They are not lads to need much help. They are the kind
who carve out their own futures."
* * * * *
"Well, they've gone," announced Bob, stamping the dirt from his shoes.
"What do you think of it?"
"Of the fire--the burning bag, you mean?"
"Yes."
"I think it was a mighty queer occurrence."
"So do I," agreed Jarvis, "and it's my opinion that it will bear looking
into."
"Where's Dominick?"
"He sneaked away when the others left. But he is of no use to us. He
knows nothing about this affair, beyond what we all saw. We must look
beyond him for the cause of the fire. Well, I'm off."
The lads separated for the time being and went off about their duties.
But the thought of the fired bag kept recurring to Steve Rush. He turned
the matter over and over in his mind, yet without being able to reach
any definite conclusion regarding it.
"I wish I knew," he mused. "It is not my business, however, to inquire
into the affair unless I have orders to do so."
He was to receive his orders sooner than he imagined, and his
investigations were eventually to develop some startling facts
concerning conditions in the Cousin Jack Mine.