"Oh," I said, "I was in the army."
His face became alert at once, and interested. The others stopped
talking, also, and looked over at me.
"Me have broder in de American army; no in army, mysel'; me one time
Italian army. How long time you?"
"Nearly two years," I said.
"Oversea?"
"Yes, but didn't get to front, before war over. No fight," I answered,
adopting abbreviated style, as I sometimes did. It seemed unnecessary
and a little discourteous to use a rounded phrase, with all the adorning
English particles.
He jumped down from the steps and took up a broom, executing a shoulder
arms or two, and the flat-hand Italian salute, performed with a
tremendous air.
"Here," I said, "bayonet."
I took the broomstick, and did the bayonet exercises. The gang stood up
and watched with delight, making comments in several languages.
Especially the eyes of the Italians danced. The incident left a genial
social atmosphere.
Adolph came in from behind one of the stoves as I was concluding a "long
point."
"Come on," he said, looking at me with a grin; and when I had followed
him, "I show you furnace, li'l bit."
He took me to a stair-ladder near the skip that ascended to the top of
Number 5. For every furnace, a skip carries up the ore and other
ingredients for melting inside. It is a funicular-like thing, a
continuous belt, with boxes attached, running from the "hopper" at the
top of the furnace to the "stockroom" underground.
We started to climb the steps at the left of the belt. There was a
little rail between us and the moving boxes of ore.
"See dat," said Adolph, pointing through at the boxes. "Keep head
inside," he said, "keep hand inside, cut 'em off quick." He illustrated
the amputation, with great vivacity, on his throat and wrists.
It was a climb of five minutes to the furnace-top. We paused to look at
the mounting boxes.
"Ore?" I asked.
He nodded.
Pretty soon the iron ceased coming, and a white stone took its place in
the boxes.
"What's that?"
"Limestone," he said. "Next come coke. Look."
We were near enough to the top to see the boxes tilt, and the hopper
open and swallow the dumping of stone. In a minute or two, we stepped
out on the platform on top of the furnace.
Adolph looked at me and grinned. "You smell dat gas?" he asked.
I nodded. He referred to the carbon monoxide that I knew issued from the
top of all blast-furnaces.
"You stay li'l bit, pretty soon you drunk," he said.
"Let's not," I returned.
"You stay li'l bit more," he continued, his grin broadening, "pretty
soon you dead."