THE GIANTS
They stood on the dock of a river where great ships leave
their burden of iron ore.
“There she comes!” exclaimed Mr. Prescott, pointing to a freighter that
was slowly drawing near.
“No giants in sight yet,” said Billy.
“It’s your eyes that are not seeing,” returned Mr. Prescott. “That boat
herself is a giantess. Watch.”
Hardly had the great boat been made fast to her moorings before, in
some mysterious way, the hold of the ship opened wide from stem to
stern.
Then somebody touched a lever somewhere, and over the hold swung a row
of buckets that, opening like two hands, grabbed into the ore, and
seizing tons of it, swung back to the dock. A touch of another lever
unloaded it into huge storage bins.
“Billy Bradford,” said Mr. Prescott, “weren’t those the hands of a
giant?”
“Sure, sir,” answered Billy, who stood staring in wonder.
“That ore,” said Mr. Prescott, “came from a surface mine up in the pine
woods of Lake Superior, a thousand miles away.
“Perhaps, gentlemen, you may like to know that the American supremacy
in iron is largely due to those open pit mines up in Minnesota.
“Much of the ore in that region is so near the surface that a steam
shovel can easily strip off the ‘overburden’ of the soil and the roots
of pine trees.
“When that was done, giant hands seized that ore, lifted it up, and
loaded it into bins, high up on the bluffs.
“Then a man, not a giant, touched a treadle, and another kind of giant,
named ‘gravity,’ made the ore run from the bottom of the car into a bin.
“Chutes from the ore bin ran into the hold of the steamer, and almost
before she had been tied to the dock she was ready to come down here.
“Giants or not, Billy Bradford?”
“Iron giants,” answered Billy.
“Rather different, Mr. Bradford,” said Dr. Crandon, “from fishing ore
with tongs.”
“We’ve moved along a great way since that time,” said John Bradford,
“and most of our progress has been due to iron.”
“Giants don’t do all the work even now,” said Mr. Prescott. “They make
short work of iron mountains and surface deposits, but most of them
are too large to work underground; though we mustn’t forget that Giant
Electricity works down there with the men.
“Giant Gravity helps too, for, when they work below the deposit, he
caves the ore down. Of course some ores are so hard that they can’t be
caved, so there is still some mining for the men to do.”
“Was there,” asked Billy, trying to speak in a sort of offhand way, “an
iron mountain where this iron came from?”
“There are some,” answered Mr. Prescott, “up in that region.”
Billy had been paying very close attention to what Mr. Prescott had
been saying. There was something that he wanted especially to find out.
He felt very sure, now, that he was hearing about an iron mountain that
he had heard about once before.
He felt very sure, but he wouldn’t ask any more questions, because that
was the secret that he had with Thomas Murphy.
The others started for the car. But Billy stood a moment longer to look
at the giant hands that, having finished their work, were hanging idly
in the air. The hold of the ship, emptied of its burden, was already
beginning to close.
“Beginning to believe in giants, aren’t you?” said Mr. Prescott, as
Billy stepped into the car.
“The next giant will be a hungry fellow, and he is very, very tall; so
he eats a great deal.”
“An iron-eater, is he?” queried Dr. Crandon.
“We ourselves will have something to eat before we visit him,” said Mr.
Prescott, ordering Joseph to drive back to the hotel.
“Mr. Prescott,” said Dr. Crandon, as they sat at table, “is iron ever
found in a pure state, like gold, for instance?”
“It is practically never found in a pure state,” answered Mr. Prescott,
“except the meteoric iron, ‘the stone of heaven.’”
Billy looked at him questioningly.
“That was rather technical, wasn’t it, Billy? You see, I was talking to
a technical man. Just between you and me, meteoric iron comes down from
the sky, from what we call shooting stars. Sometimes large pieces are
found. I suppose that much of it falls into the sea. It is the purest
iron that has ever been found.”
“What about magnetic iron?” asked Dr. Crandon. “Where does that come
from?”
“At the present time,” answered Mr. Prescott, “most of it comes from
Sweden and Norway. It makes the best kind of steel.
“Ages ago, the first was found in Magnesia,” said Mr. Prescott casting
a quick glance around the table.
“The people there found certain hard, black stones which would attract
to themselves bits of iron and steel. So they named them magnets,
from Magnesia, the place where the stones were found,” finished Mr.
Prescott, with another look around the table.
“It’s of no use, Prescott,” said Dr. Crandon, “you needn’t look at us.
We don’t any of us know even where to look for Magnesia. Don’t suppose
we could find it even if we had a map.”
“I presume you remember, Crandon,” said Mr. Prescott, “the place that
boasted that ancient wonder of the world, the Temple of Diana.”
“Ephesus!” said Dr. Crandon, quickly. “I do happen to know that Ephesus
is in Asia Minor.”
“Then,” said Mr. Prescott, still keeping his face very grave, “I
should strongly advise your finding Ephesus first. That’s in the near
neighborhood of Magnesia.”
“Thank you,” said Dr. Crandon gravely. “Though I did not know where
magnetic iron came from, I do happen to know that it is sometimes
called ‘lode-stone.’
“And I know, too, that Sir Isaac Newton--he’s the one, Billy, who ran
down Giant Gravity--had a ring set with a lode-stone that could lift
two hundred and fifty times its own weight.”
“And I know,” said Mr. Prescott, “that I am very grateful to Dr.
Crandon for telling me about the new electro-magnet that I now have at
the mill. I feel very much easier, now, about my workmen’s eyes.”
“Do you mean,” asked Billy, “that thing that you brought home that I
thought was a new desk telephone?”
“It does resemble a telephone,” said Dr. Crandon, “only it has a tip
instead of a mouthpiece. It’s a great thing for taking bits of steel
out of eyes.”
“Isn’t there such a thing,” asked John Bradford, “as a magnetic
separator?”
“Glad to hear from you once more, Bradford,” said Mr. Prescott, with a
smile. “It has been some time since you have said anything.”
“I have been having too good a time,” said John Bradford, “to want to
talk. I should like, now, to have you tell us about the separator.”
“It is an electro-magnetic drum. When the finely crushed ore is poured
on it in a stream, the drum attracts the iron, while the earthy matter,
which is non-magnetic, falls off by the action of gravity. The iron is
carried on by the drum, until a brush arrangement sweeps it off into a
truck.
“That is a case, Billy, where Giant Gravity and Giant Electro-magnet
fight over the ore, and each gets away with a part of it.
“Perhaps I ought to explain to you that, when a bar of soft iron is put
inside an insulated coil of copper wire and a current of electricity is
passed through it, it becomes a powerful magnet. That is what we mean
by an electro-magnet. The advantage of that is that it ceases to be a
magnet when the current ceases, so it can be controlled. You will see
some before I am through showing you giants.
“There is also an electric cleaner that collects the iron that is left
in the corners of cars. Those devices save iron. Strange as it may
seem, however, not all iron will respond to the magnetic cleaners.”
“Is there,” asked Dr. Crandon, “any danger that the iron in the world
will be exhausted?”
“I hardly think so,” answered Mr. Prescott. “The available ores, in the
single range that we were talking about this morning, run up into the
trillions of metric tons.”
“I read something the other day,” said John Bradford, “about some iron
that had been found in Sweden, up beyond the arctic circle.”
“That,” said Mr. Prescott, “is one of the most extensive deposits in
the world. The countries of the western part of Europe draw upon that
supply.
“It is very likely that we haven’t found all the iron yet, and even
more likely that we shall find a way to make use of the poorer ores.
“By the way, Billy, there is one kind of iron called ‘iron pyrites.’ It
looks so much like gold that it has deceived many a poor fellow into
thinking that he had found gold. It well deserves the name ‘fool’s
gold.’ It doesn’t even make good iron. I’ll show you some when we go
home. Now we’ll go to see the iron-eater.”
Ten minutes later Billy exclaimed:
“He’s tall!”
“Not quite a hundred feet,” said Mr. Prescott.
“He’s black!” said Dr. Crandon.
“He roars!” added John Bradford.
“And,” said Mr. Prescott, “even if he could be moved, he’s rather too
valuable for a circus manager to buy, for he cost a million dollars. I
really think he’s the most fearful thing ever made by man. The Germans,
though, did a great thing for iron when they evolved the blast furnace.”
“Makes our cupola,” said John Bradford, as they stopped before the tall
iron stack, “look very small.”
“Ours,” said Mr. Prescott, “is only a dwarf, but he does something like
the same work; only here they put in iron ore instead of pig iron.
Blast furnaces make pig iron.”
[Illustration: “THE MOST FEARFUL THING EVER MADE”]
“What diet,” asked Dr. Crandon, “do they give this giant?”
“You’re bound to think professionally, aren’t you, Crandon? He’s
restricted to coke, iron ore, and limestone, but they feed him very
often. They see, too, that he has plenty of hot air to breathe.
“The old problem used to be how to get heat enough to melt the ore.
That was solved by a Scotchman, who originated the use of the hot blast.
“The gas produced by the furnace used to be wasted. Now they utilize
it in the hot-blast stoves. That accounts for some of the huge pipes
attached to the furnace. Come this way, and I’ll show you a stove.
“Here it is, almost as tall as the furnace itself. This giant, also, is
encased in an armor of iron plates. If we could look inside, we should
see that it is almost filled with open brick work that resembles a
honeycomb.
“They send hot gas over the brick work till the stove is hot, then they
shut off the gas and start the engine that blows in cold air. That,
heated by the bricks, is forced into the furnace.
“One of those great pipes up there is where they draw off the slag. It
is so much lighter than the iron that it rises to the top, like cream
on milk.
“Down here they draw off the iron. Sometimes they keep it hot for the
next process; sometimes it is made into pig iron.”
“What,” asked Dr. Crandon, “becomes of the slag?”
“That depends somewhat on the chemical composition of the slag. Some
kinds are broken up to be used as foundation for roads; others are
granulated by being run into water, and so made into cement. Over in
Germany, where the ores are rich in phosphorus, they grind up the
linings of the furnace to make phosphatic fertilizers for the farmers.”
“Then,” said Dr. Crandon, “the making of iron involves the use of
chemistry, doesn’t it?”
“It certainly does,” answered Mr. Prescott; “from the chemical
composition of ores to the finished product. We are learning a great
deal just now from the chemists about steel alloys.
“I didn’t tell you that from the gas they sometimes save ammonia, tar,
and oils, before it is fed to the hot-blast stoves.”
“By-products,” said Dr. Crandon, “seem to be a feature of modern
industry.”
“It is high time,” said Mr. Prescott, “that waste should receive
attention.”
“Before we leave this giant I must tell you that he already has a
dangerous rival--listen, Billy, for it’s almost a David and Goliath
story--in a little electric smelter. Some of them can be moved about
like a portable sawmill.
“Up in Sweden, where the ores are among the purest in the world, they
use electric smelters and make steel direct from the ore.”
“Any more giants?” asked Billy.
“You’ll think so,” answered Mr. Prescott, “before I am through with
them; but we’ve seen enough for to-day. Next time I’ll show you giants
that have done something more than to make iron, for they have really
reduced the size of the world.”
“Whew!” exclaimed Dr. Crandon.
“Before that,” said Mr. Prescott, “I am going to introduce you to some
pygmies.”
[Illustration]