The Iron Boys in the Steel Mills Part 1

The Iron Boys in the Steel Mills.

by James R. Mears.

CHAPTER I

TOO SLOW FOR HIM

The telephone bell rang sharply. Its very insistence seemed to indicate the nervous haste of the person on the other end of the line.

"h.e.l.lo!" growled the boy, looking longingly out of the office window as he clapped the receiver to his ear. "What's that? What building? Pity they couldn't pick out a hot day, while they were about it. Yes, I'll tell him. 'Yes,' I said. Can't you hear?"

Several clerks, with coats and vests off, were lounging about the office of the great steel works in the accident department. The sun beat down on the building with relentless energy, and there was scarcely a breath of air stirring. There was little incentive to work, and hardly any one was making the slightest pretext at it.

Steve Rush and Bob Jarvis glanced inquiringly at the telephone operator. Being in the accident department, they were interested every time they heard the telephone bell ring. It was their duty, immediately upon an accident being reported in any of the mills, to proceed to the scene at once and gather all the facts for the future use of the company. Furthermore, they were allowed considerable lat.i.tude in the disposal of persons who had been injured.

"Anything doing?" questioned Jarvis.

"Accident," answered the operator in a tone that led one to believe that the mere effort of speaking gave him pain.

"Where?"

"Number twenty-four," meaning the building bearing that number. "That's in your district, Rush."

Bob Jarvis grinned.

"I am in luck that it isn't in my division. It's hot enough here, but excuse me from going into the mills on a day like this. Want any help, Steve?"

"No, thank you. And besides, you are too lazy to work to-day. You would only be a handicap to me. What is the accident, did they say?"

The operator shook his head wearily.

Steve Rush, picking up a pad of paper which he stuffed in his pocket, hurried from the office and started across the street on a run. As he did so he saw a red light burning dimly at the peak of one of the long row of soot-blackened mills that made up the plant of the Steelburgh mills, a signal indicating that a disaster of some sort had occurred in that building. Seeing that signal it was the duty of the Iron and Steel Police, who kept order in the mills, to report the fact to the accident department at once.

Steve did not need the red light to guide him. He was by this time familiar with the location of all the buildings, though there were some, such as the plate mills, where the armor plate was made for the ships of the Navy, which he had never entered. No one save those who were employed there were able to gain admission to the buildings where secret processes were employed.

Steve dashed by the guard at the gate.

"Here, where are you going?" demanded the guard.

"Accident department."

"Let me see your card!" demanded the officious gate guard.

"Some other time. Can't you see I am in a hurry?" answered the lad, running past the gate and into the yards at top speed.

The Iron and Steel Police like nothing better than an opportunity to show their authority. The result was that Steve had gotten but a short distance inside the yard when policemen, seeing him running, began shouting at him from all sides to halt. Perhaps they had seen him pa.s.sing in and out, daily, for several weeks. But this made no difference. He was running, and all persons going faster than a walk must have a reason for so doing. It was their duty to stop the runner and learn what it meant. At least, that was the way these guardians of the mills construed their duty.

Steve merely pointed to the red light high up on number twenty-four, as the best answer to their questions. He kept on running. So did some of the policemen, but they were no match in speed, for the supple young fellow, who realizing the necessity for haste, kept on at top speed.

As he neared the building, three uniformed officers dodged out from behind a pile of steel bars, their attention having been called to the sprinter by the shouts of their companions.

"Hold up!"

"I can't!" answered Steve, continuing on toward them.

"Ye'd better stop, if ye know what's good for ye."

"There has been an accident. I can't stop. I'm from the accident department, and----"

"We'll stop ye!"

"The wooden-heads, they actually are going to hold me up! Well, I'll teach them a lesson, even if I lose my job for it," gritted the boy.

"Get out of the way, I tell you! Don't you dare stop me here!"

The officers spread out a little, drawing their clubs as they executed the movement, one stepping forward a little in advance of the others.

"There's only one way out of it," muttered Steve. "I've either got to get by them or be called down at the office for being too slow. I don't believe I'll be called down for being late to-day. At least, not for anything that I see just now."

The foremost of the Iron and Steel Police made a grab for the fleeing lad, catching and whirling the boy around, facing in the opposite direction.

"Let go of me!"

A firmer grip was the answer. Rush made a quick turn. His right arm was thrust forcibly against the neck of the policeman, followed by a sudden kick on the shins. The policeman fell flat on the cinder-covered ground.

The other two men sprang forward with drawn clubs to attack the boy who had used their companion so roughly. Their clubs were raised to strike, but ere they could bring their weapons into use they too had dropped to the ground.

"Now, maybe you'll learn to mind your own business," shouted the boy, starting on a run for the building over which the red light still glowed. "The idiots! Why, a man cannot go about his business without their interfering with him. I wonder the company stands for such idiotic nonsense."

Steve dashed in through the door of number twenty-four, which also was guarded by a policeman.

"Accident department," said the boy as he ran in, at which the officer nodded understandingly. "He has some sense," breathed Steve.

The lad's quick eyes caught sight of a group of men standing half way down the centre of the dimly lighted building. It was the open-hearth furnace building, and the group was a little to the right of the furnaces that extended down nearly through the centre.

Hurrying up to the group Rush elbowed his way through to a point where he saw half a dozen men lying on the floor groaning. The foreman was there waiting, having sent for an ambulance to convey the men to a place where they could be treated.

"Burned?" questioned Steve sharply.

"Yes."

"What happened?"

"Small ladle tipped over, spattering some hot metal on them," replied the man, jerking a thumb toward the suffering men.

"Tell me exactly how it happened."