CHAPTER VIII

IGNATZ ON THE WAR PATH

Steve found his companion sitting up in a chair, with head and hands bandaged. Bob had been quite severely burned, and he had suffered from the shock of the explosion. The surgeon said it was a miracle that he had not been killed instantly.

"Hello, Steve," greeted Bob. "I can't grin without hurting myself, but I'm grinning on the inside of me."

"Oh, Bob, I'm so glad you are safe! I thought you had been killed when I found you were missing. What happened to you? Tell me all about it. I haven't heard the truth about it yet."

"There isn't much to tell, except that I was a bird. I flew without wings, and that is more than any one else can do. Did you see me go?"

"No, I did not, but some other persons did."

"Eh, what do you mean?"

"Foley and Kalinski."

Jarvis looked thoughtful.

"Say, that's what that fellow meant when he warned me. Why didn't he say what he was warning me about? Look here, he knew I was going to get into trouble, didn't he?"

"I have more than a suspicion that he did," nodded Rush.

"Wait till I get out of this harness," growled Bob. "What happened to you?"

"Nothing much. I was nearly buried under the cinders, but Brodsky ran for some men, who dug me out. If it hadn't been for Ignatz I believe I should have perished in number seven pit."

"He's a good fellow!" muttered Bob, nodding his head faintly. "He doesn't know much, and he wouldn't take a blue ribbon at a beauty show, but he's got the real stuff in him. I hear one man is going to die."

"Yes; so I understand. Too bad, poor fellow."

"And _I_ did it!"

"Don't blame yourself. You were not to blame for what happened. You were led directly into the mistake of putting too much water on the cinders. When is the doctor going to let you go home?"

"He said perhaps I could go in the morning, but I'm all right. I could go home now, just as well as not. I want to go back to the mill and go to work in the morning."

"No need of that. I don't think either of us will start in to-morrow."

"What? Not start in? What do you mean?"

"Never mind now. We will talk about it when you get home."

"Look here, Steve Rush, something has been going on that I don't know anything about. What is it?"

"Don't bother about asking questions. I shouldn't have excited your curiosity," answered Steve, laughing to cover his chagrin at having let the words slip out. "I'll tell you what we'll do; we will take our lunches and go down the river to-morrow for a picnic, if you are able. After you have rested up for a day perhaps you will feel able to go to work."

"But you said we weren't going to work."

"Did I?"

"You did, and I want to know why. Come on now; I'm no tenderfoot, and you know it. Why don't we go to work?"

"Because we have both been discharged. There, you have it, now."

"Fired?"

"Yes."

"What for?"

"You ought to be able to guess."

"I'm not much of a guesser."

"Well, then, because we blew up the pit."

Bob gazed at his companion unbelievingly.

"Come now, you're joking. They're not all fools down at the mill. I blew up the pit--you didn't, and I didn't know that I was doing so, of course. I'm no anarchist, and neither are you."

"Nevertheless, they hold us responsible for it."

"I know who's at the bottom of this. It's that wooden Indian, Kalinski, and--and----"

"Foley," added Steve.

"Yes, they're a choice pair. They have had a rod in pickle for both of us ever since you made the report on Foley at the time of that burning accident. Did _they_ fire us?"

"No, not directly. Mr. McNaughton did so, but they were at the bottom of it. They told him lies about us, and he believed them. Think of it, Bob. He wouldn't believe what I told him. He thought I was the one who was telling the untruths."

"Tell me all about it."

Rush did so, relating all that had occurred during his visit to the division superintendent's office, the injured boy listening with darkening face as the narration continued. He nodded approvingly when Steve related how he had invited the two men out to get their heads punched.

"Didn't go, did they?"

"No."

"I thought not. They've both got a streak of yellow in them that runs all the way from their heads down into their boot-tops. Wait till I get out! I've got a couple of good, swift punches in stock for them! They won't wake up for half an hour, once I unlimber," threatened Jarvis, shaking his bandaged fists threateningly.

"Bob, promise me one thing. Promise me that you will not have any trouble with those men. We can't afford to mix up in any disgraceful fights here. They would like nothing better than to have us do so. We should be arrested. Think of the disgrace of it! We will let them alone as long as they let us alone. We won't stir up any more trouble, but they must let us alone. Will you promise to be guided by me in this matter?"

"I don't know. I am afraid I shall lose my temper when I see them; then, if they say anything to me, it's all off. What are we going to do, now that we are out of a job?"

"I don't know," answered Steve thoughtfully.

"I'll tell you what let's do. Let's go back to the mines. We have fine jobs with good pay waiting for us there. We never should have left. Mr. Carrhart will be glad to have us."

Rush shook his head.

"We came down here to learn the iron and steel business, and we are going to do exactly that one thing."

"Will you tell me how?"

"There are other mills. We will try to get in one of them. I am going to start out to-morrow to look for work."

"I thought we were going on a picnic to-morrow," grinned Jarvis.

"Yes, that's so. Well, then, the day after to-morrow will be time enough for us to look for another place. Fortunately we are not broke. We have enough money in the bank to keep us for a long time, but that isn't the question. The question is whether or not we are going to get a job."

"I hope we don't. I'd much rather be underground, digging ore or bouncing about on the Great Lakes."

"You did not like the Lakes any better, when you first went out on them. Let's not confess that we are weak-kneed."

"No; but I've got a burned knee and it smarts," retorted Bob.

"So have I," laughed Steve. "I am behind you, though. You aviated yourself up to the roof, while I got buried in the pit. That was the time both ends did not meet. Well, I'm going home to clean up and dress. I will come back later, and, if the doctors will permit you to leave the hospital to-night, I will take you with me."

"I'll go, whether they let me, or not," said Bob. "What's the use in hanging around here? If I'd broken my stanchions, or smashed in some of my plates, then things would be different. But I am all right. Never felt better in my life, except for the burns."

Bidding his companion good-bye, Steve left the hospital and went home. His face was serious and thoughtful. On the way he stopped at the Brodskys, leaving word that he would like to have Ignatz come and see him that evening.

"Discharged!" muttered the Iron Boy. "Well, who would have thought it? I might go and see Mr. Keating--but no, I'll not play the baby act and squeal. I'll show McNaughton and his bosses that I don't ask any odds of their old mills. Yet I _did_ want to stay with the company. Well, we shall see what luck I have when I get ready to look around a bit."

Later in the day Rush returned to the hospital. Jarvis was permitted to go with Steve, with the understanding that the injured boy return on the following morning to have his burns dressed. Then the two went home. Jarvis was weak and staggered a little, but he would not let Rush take his arm. He laughed at the suggestion. When they got home they found Ignatz at their boarding house. The Polish boy was delighted to see them.

"Bob, if it hadn't been for Ignatz, we should have been in a worse mess than we are. He's one of the white men in this smoky part of the country."

"I'll shake with you when my hands get well," laughed Jarvis. "I can't even shake my head now. I couldn't shake if I had an attack of chills."

"I suppose you know that we have lost our positions, don't you, Ignatz?" asked Steve.

Brodsky nodded moodily.

"I hear men say you no work in open-hearth place any more."

"Well, it does look as if we shouldn't."

"Why?"

"I'll tell you all about it." Rush told the story fully, and without reserve, to their faithful friend, Brodsky listening attentively with emotionless face.

"Huh!" he grunted after the recital had come to an end. "Watski say you blow up pit?"

"Yes."

"Huh! Watski much liar! Foley, him liar, too. All liars. You see superintendent?"

"We saw Superintendent McNaughton. It was he who sent for us and discharged us."

"No, I mean Superintendent Keating?"

"No, Ignatz; we can't go to him with our troubles. That would be too much like whining, and we are not the kind of boys who go about crying because we have been whipped."

"You lick Kalinski?"

"To tell the truth, nothing would give me greater pleasure. But we are not going to do anything of the sort--that is, if he keeps away and lets us alone."

"I'd like to catch him on the hot metal bridge some fine night when there wasn't anybody near," growled Bob, shaking his padded fist.

"What I sent for you for, Ignatz, was to ask you about some of the other mills. I have not been here long enough to know about them. Will you tell me what the other mills are, and whom to see? I am going to try to get a job."

Brodsky named the independent mills. There were ten of them in all. He knew the names of some of the foremen, and said he would get the names that he did not know.

"You want me more?" demanded the Pole, rising abruptly.

"No, but we should like to have you spend the evening with us, if you have no other place to go," said Steve.

Brodsky shook his head.

"Must go home split the wood for my mother. She take a club to me if I don't. I see you bimeby, mebby to-night, mebby the day after to-morrow."

The boy turned and left the room at a trot. Bob laughed heartily after he had gone.

"There's an odd lad," he said.

"He's true-blue, Bob. Under all his stolidness he is every inch a man, as I have said many times before. He is more cut up over our hard luck than we are. I hope he doesn't try to induce Kalinski to take us back. That would please the pit boss, because he would think we had asked Ignatz to intercede for us. I would rather never have a job again than to ask either of those three men to take us back."

"I wonder what the general superintendent will say when he hears about it?" asked Jarvis.

"He will not be likely to hear of it at all, unless some time he happens to think about us and asks. Even then he will be given the same story that Foley and Kalinski told Mr. McNaughton. I hope he doesn't hear it, for then our friends at the mines will learn the same story, and we shall be disgraced in their eyes."

"No, we won't! I'll see to it that we are not."

"I think we had better postpone our picnic to-morrow, seeing that you have to go to the hospital to have your burns dressed. That will give me an opportunity to visit some of the other mills, and I'll wager I'll come back with a job for both of us in my pocket to-morrow night."

"All right; I don't care. I'm getting so that everything goes and nothing matters at all. I'm getting to be an old man--a feeble old man, Steve Rush," said Bob, in all seriousness.

Rush laughed heartily.

* * * * *

In the meantime Ignatz Brodsky had left the house. Strangely enough he appeared to have forgotten his promise to go home and split wood for his mother, the widow Brodsky. Instead, he started in the opposite direction. Ignatz was nodding to mill men whom he knew, now and then halting to speak to one, asking a question of another, but keeping on his way.

All at once his stolid face melted into a smile so soft and pleasing that no one would have thought him incapable of feeling. The object that had brought the smile to the face of the Polish boy, however, was none other than Watski Kalinski swinging down the street. Ignatz pretended not to see the pit boss. As they were passing Brodsky lurched against the boss.

"What for you bump me?" demanded the lad, in an angry tone.

"Git out of the way before I hit you!" growled Kalinski.

"What for you run against me?"

"I didn't. You run into me. You're a _li_----"

Whack!

Ignatz was a stocky boy, even though he was only seventeen years old. He had been used to heavy work all his life; in fact, he had had little schooling, having had to earn his living since he was ten years old, at which time his father had been killed in the mills, leaving Mrs. Brodsky with a brood of young Brodskys, of whom Ignatz was next to the eldest. It therefore devolved on him to share a good part of the burdens of the home, the elder brother, Paul, having a wife of his own to care for.

When Ignatz let go his fist the other man was caught wholly off his guard. He had no time to raise his own fists in defense, though he was just preparing to administer a kick to the boy who had involved him in an argument.

Kalinski struck the ground sideways. The pit boss was on his feet in a few seconds, uttering a roar of rage. Ignatz calmly knocked him down again, this time the blood spurting from the boss's nose in a tiny crimson stream.

The next time Watski came up there was blood in his eyes, as well as on his face and nose. Ignatz knew full well that, unless he turned and ran, the tables would be quickly turned on him, for on equal ground he was no match for the brawny pit boss.

"You loafer! You----"

Watski made a rush for the boy, which Ignatz dodged clumsily, hitting Kalinski in the side as the latter passed him.

"All liars!" taunted Brodsky.

Kalinski wheeled sharply. Brodsky was off his balance, but his fists were up ready to defend himself. Yet he was not prepared for the tactics adopted by the unscrupulous pit boss.

Watski suddenly let go a vicious kick. It caught Ignatz in the abdomen, doubling the boy up and sending him moaning to the ground, after which Watski started away on the run.