CHAPTER VIII

BEGINNING TO UNDERSTAND

MR. CARRHART, the president of the mining company, arrived early on the following morning. He was an experienced engineer, and with a force that is characteristic of successful men in the industrial world, he quickly put the mine in working condition.

In the meantime Mr. Carrhart had listened to the tale of the heroism of the Iron Boys. They had saved the company thousands of dollars by their efforts. On the second day he sent for the two boys and extended to them his hearty congratulations, assuring them at the same time that he would show the appreciation of the company in a more substantial way. He asked Steve if there were anything he could do for him at that moment.

"No, sir; I thank you," was the prompt answer.

Late that afternoon Steve was approached by an inspector in the mines named Cavard, a Russian. His first name, being practically unpronounceable, had remained in disuse so long that nearly every one in the mine had forgotten it. Cavard was called the Duke for short, because of his dignified carriage and aristocratic airs. He was greatly respected, however, especially by the foreign element in the mine, over whom he exercised considerable influence. It was Cavard to whom they turned to settle their differences; it was Cavard who advised them in their money matters, and it had been rumored that he had profited through this until he had amassed quite a sum of money. However, the man was an experienced miner. He had worked up from grade to grade until he had become an inspector, and though the officials of the company did not like the man personally, they were forced to admit that he was valuable to them.

Steve knew Cavard, though he had never passed five minutes' conversation with him since the lads had been in the employ of the company. Steve did not like the fellow; he had distrusted the Duke from the first. Their dislike for each other appeared to have been mutual, Cavard treating both boys with indifference and scorn.

Rush was, therefore, rather surprised when the Russian approached him with cordial, outstretched hand that afternoon on the level where the lad was attending to his duties.

"I want to congratulate you, Rush," said the inspector.

"What for?" asked Steve rather brusquely.

"For your heroism at the time of the fire. The men are all proud of you."

"Thank you. I simply did my duty. Anyone would have done the same."

"But the fact remains, my boy, that no one did the same. The men were panic-stricken. They were crazed with fear."

"So I observed. But I hear good reports of you also. You did your duty, too. Why aren't they congratulating you?"

"Oh, that was nothing. By the way, Rush, you and I ought to be friends."

"I wasn't aware that we were enemies," replied the boy, with a faint smile.

"I did not mean it that way. I meant that we ought to get together and come to a better understanding."

"Thank you; I am too busy to indulge in friendships. I am much obliged for your kindness, though."

"Pshaw, don't talk that way. I want you to do something for me."

"I shall be glad to do whatever I can for you, sir. What do you want?"

"Come and see me. You and I have much to talk over. We can talk better in my own rooms. It may be to your advantage to talk matters over with me."

"What is it you want to talk with me about?" asked Steve.

Steve's suspicions were aroused, though what lay behind the invitation he did not know.

"Will you come?"

"I'll think about it," answered the lad. "Where do you live?"

"Twenty-three, Iron Street."

"Yes, I know the place."

"You might bring your friend Jarvis with you. He will be interested in what I have to say. You are both boys of influence in the mines, and you are advancing rapidly. We ought to be able to work together to our mutual advantage."

Rush bade the inspector good afternoon and went about his duties. The lad was puzzled. That Cavard was influenced by some ulterior motive he was certain. But, puzzle over the matter as he might, Steve Rush was unable to decide in his own mind what that motive might be. He was at first inclined to accept Cavard's invitation to call on him. Upon reflection, however, he decided that he wanted nothing to do with the man.

That evening he talked the matter over with Bob, and Jarvis was of the opinion that the less they had to do with the Russian the better it would be for both of them. Later on, as the boys were taking their evening walk, they passed Cavard strolling along the street with a stranger. The latter was tall and well dressed. He was red of face, and when he raised his hat to wipe the perspiration from his forehead the boys saw that his head was crowned with a luxuriant growth of red hair. His small, keen eyes took in every detail of the two boys in one comprehensive glance. They saw him ask a quick question of Cavard. The latter glanced at the boys, nodding smilingly, then answered the red-headed man in a tone too low for them to catch the words.

"Who's the red head?" demanded Bob Jarvis.

"I don't know. I never saw him before," answered Steve, gazing searchingly at the two men. "He is a stranger in this vicinity, that is certain. I wonder what he and Cavard are talking about so confidentially. By the way, Bob, have you kept your eyes open of late?"

"I usually do. What particular thing are you talking about?"

"What I spoke about before. Since the fire in the mine there has been more talk than ever going on among the men."

"Yes; I have observed that."

"I have noticed also that our friend Cavard has had a most important part in these talks. I wish I knew what he had in mind when he urged me to come and see him. I believe that fellow will bear watching, Bob."

"I agree with you there. We'll keep an eye on him. He has nerve, whatever other failings may be his. He certainly made himself useful at the fire the other day and the men would lay down their lives for him at any moment."

"Provided they didn't get an attack of cold feet," added Jarvis, with a grin.

"You couldn't blame them for that. You must remember that the rank and file of the men in the mines are ignorant and unreasoning. In consequence they become easily panic-stricken in time of danger."

"Yes, that's so. A little knowledge does give a man more or less courage."

"Because it gives him greater reasoning powers. It teaches him to reason things out instead of getting scared and running away. That is why the Duke is so far above the rank and file of the workers in the mines."

"I guess you're right, at that," agreed Bob.

"Of course I am. But I am convinced that we shall hear something from Cavard before a great while that will interest us. He has made the first move in asking us to come and see him. Of course we shall not do so, but if he wants to see us very badly he will look us up, depend upon that. If he approaches you, Bob, let him take the lead, but see to it that you draw him out if you can without committing yourself."

"I'll do that; don't you worry. I'll show him I can play at a game of wits just as well as he can."

"Don't underrate the fellow. Remember, he is a sharp, shrewd man. He is playing a game unless I am greatly in error, and he is playing it very shrewdly. We know that, because not a breath of what he is up to has gotten to our ears."

"Have you asked anyone about him?"

"Well, I had a talk with the mine captain of the Cousin Jack the other day. Jim thinks him a very capable man. He says that Cavard is one of the best men in the mines, and that the Duke has more influence with the miners than has any other man in the mines."

"That statement doesn't enlighten us as to Cavard's game."

"No, but we will eventually find it out. I shall try to throw myself in Cavard's way without appearing to do so. Then perhaps he will open up and give me a clue to what he is driving at."

"That's a good idea. I'll keep hands off and leave you a clear field to work in."

Their further conversation along this line was interrupted by Mr. Penton, who overtook them at that moment. He greeted the lads warmly and walked with them until he reached his own home, where he left the Iron Boys. They did not refer to the subject again that night. The following day was Sunday, a day when all work is suspended in the mines, no matter how great the demand for output.

Late in the afternoon Steve saw Cavard and the stranger walking out of town, going in the direction of a little lake that lay a mile beyond the mining town. After a time Rush observed other groups moving in the same direction.

"Now I wonder if the whole town is going fishing," mused Rush. "I've a good notion to follow them out and see what is going on. But I think I had better stay at home and attend to my own business."

He did so, in a short time forgetting entirely what he had observed. The matter was again brought to his attention when the men came back just before the supper hour. Some of the men from his own boarding house had been out to the lake. All of them seemed more or less excited over something. The boys asked a few guarded questions, but gained no information whatever, their questions being parried in every instance.

This made Steve Rush all the more determined to get to the bottom of the mystery.

"I'd give a day's wages to know what that fellow, Cavard, has got in the back of his head. I'll bet it would be interesting reading, and I'm going to make it my business to find out. Something has been going on to-day, Bob."

"Yes; it is easy to see that. Have you any idea what this secrecy means?"

"Not the slightest in the world."

It was noticed that the red-haired stranger still lingered in town. Steve learned that the man was in frequent communication with certain of the workers in the mine, spending all, or the greater part of his evenings at Cavard's lodgings on Iron Street.

One evening late in the week Rush walked down to the village hotel, where he occasionally went to read the Chicago papers that were kept on file there. He had seated himself at the long, paper-littered table in the deserted reading room and settled himself for a quiet time. He had been reading for some time when he suddenly heard his name spoken.

Glancing up quickly the Iron Boy found himself looking into the florid face of the red-haired man whom he had seen with the Duke.

"Good evening, sir," said Steve innocently, resuming his reading.

"I am glad to make your acquaintance, young man. I have heard all about your heroism at the time of the fire in the mine. It was a brave piece of work that you and your friend--let's see, what is his name?"

"You mean Bob Jarvis?"

"Yes, that's the name--that you two did."

"Thank you. Let's talk about the weather."

The stranger laughed heartily.

"I see you are a humorist. I expect you will be at the head of a mine yourself one of these fine days."

"I expect to be," answered the lad so quickly as fairly to take the other man's breath away. "That day is a long way off, however."

"Perhaps not so far off as you think. There is a way that men of your ability and mind may improve their conditions."

"May I ask what your business is, sir?"

"I am interested in mines. I am up here on mining business. By the way, I have some of the finest samples of ore that you ever saw."

"Indeed."

Steve was interested in spite of himself.

"Yes; I can show you samples that will interest you greatly. If you have a little time I wish you would come up to my room. We can talk to better advantage there than down here, and besides I can show you the samples without a crowd gathering about us."

"I do not know you, sir," answered the lad, with a half smile.

"My name is Driscold, Barney Driscold. I am from Chicago."

"I am glad to meet you, Mr. Driscold," said Rush, extending his hand. "Under the circumstances I shall be glad to see the ore you speak of. I am always willing to look at anything that will add to my store of knowledge."

"I know that. Come with me. I am interested in young men like you. Where is your friend to-night?"

"He has gone to call on another friend."

Steve rose and started after Driscold. The latter did not pass through the lobby of the hotel, but made his way back through the parlor on the ground floor, opening a door that revealed a stairway leading to the floor above. Steve had never been upstairs in the hotel. He did not even know the arrangement of the rooms up there. He was a shrewd boy, and perhaps he was not so much attracted by the promised exhibition of ore as he was by the idea of learning something about Mr. Driscold.

The latter led him down a hall toward the front of the building, then entered a small, cosy parlor, which he had engaged for his use while in the mining town.

"Have a seat," said Driscold cordially, as he turned on the lights, then drew up a chair close to where Steve Rush had seated himself.

"I guess something is going to start in a short time," thought Steve. "Where are the ore samples, sir?" he asked.

Driscold brought out a handful of specimens of copper ore that he had in his bag. These he laid on the little round table that stood at the side of his chair.

Steve picked up the samples. He saw at once that they were inferior samples, not worthy even of passing consideration.

"Where do these samples come from, sir?" he asked, apparently deeply interested.

"From a new mine over in Michigan. I am interested in the mine and I thought you would be interested in the ore we take from it."

"Yes, sir."

"We have some ideal conditions in the mine. Our men are better paid and have shorter hours than you men have up here. You work ten hours here, while our men work only eight."

"Yes, sir."

"I presume that you would like to have shorter hours and get more money at the same time, would you not?"

"That depends," replied Rush evasively.

"Upon what?"

"Oh, it depends upon several things. In what way do you accomplish this in your new copper mine?"

"By organization purely."

"I don't think I quite understand."

"By organization I mean organizing the working men."

"Oh, you mean holding up one's employers; in other words, throttling them and compelling them to grant one's demands. Is that what you mean?" demanded the lad with sharp incisiveness.

"Oh, no, no, no! You misunderstand me. We do nothing of the sort. We----"

Driscold was interrupted by a rap on the door.

"Come in," he called.

A man stepped into the room. Steve could scarce repress an exclamation as he saw and recognized the newcomer.

"I begin to understand what the game is now," thought the boy, as he leaned back in his chair with a smile of recognition on his face.