"There comes my brother. You must go."

Steve swung down the street at once. Half way down the block he met Cavard face to face.

The walking delegate stopped directly in front of the young man.

"Well, my friend, what do you think of the strike now?" demanded Cavard in a mocking tone.

"What do I think? I think it is the greatest outrage that was ever perpetrated on a body of men who have not the power to think for themselves. You will have much to answer for at the day of reckoning, Mr. Cavard."

"I'll pa.s.s all that, Rush. I have been talking with the men lately. They express themselves as being sorry for the way they used you. They want to make amends----"

"So I should judge from the way they act toward me when they meet me outside," interrupted Steve.

"That has all been a mistake. The men who have annoyed you are not the representative miners. They are the men who have been brought in here by the company. A pretty tough crowd----"

"I know who they are. You need not try to tell me."

"Our members have commissioned me to ask you to attend our meetings."

"What for? So they can give me another drubbing?" demanded the lad.

"No, no; you do not understand. They want to apologize. They want you to come back into the union. Believe me, it is the best thing you can do.

Should you refuse I cannot answer for the consequences. The men are getting worked up to a high pitch. I do not know how long I shall be able to control them."

"You must think me a fool!" replied the Iron Boy. "Of course I shall not join the union. I have had enough unionism to last me for the rest of my life, if all unions are like this one. I do not believe they are, however."

"Take my advice and join."

"I took your advice once, and as a result I have some of the marks on my body still. I understand your purpose. You think I am a little too active, and you take this as the best way to rid yourself of the annoyance," added the boy shrewdly. "No, thank you. My activity will continue until I have shown you to your blind followers in your true colors."

Steve started to pa.s.s Cavard, whereupon the latter quickly stepped in front of him, barring the Iron Boy's progress.

Steve's eyes snapped dangerously.

"Are you going to let me pa.s.s?"

"Not until I have finished what I have to say to you."

"Are you going to let me pa.s.s, or have I got to knock you down first? It must be one or the other."

For a moment the man and the boy stood looking into each other's eyes.

Cavard towered half a head above the Iron Boy, and he was strong in proportion. There were few men in the mines possessing greater strength than the president of the union.

A sudden flush suffused the face of Cavard. Without an instant's warning he let go a powerful blow straight at the head of Steve Rush.

CHAPTER XX

LAMB CHOPS FOR THE BABY

QUICK as the blow had been, the Iron Boy had not been caught unawares.

He had been watching the eyes of the walking delegate, and he had read the man's purpose some seconds before the blow was struck.

Steve swerved his head an inch to one side, permitting the blow to shoot over his shoulder.

The lad leaped lightly back in order to have more room in which to swing his body, then drove his fist straight out from the shoulder. The fist landed squarely on the point of the walking delegate's jaw.

Cavard had been caught off his guard. He had not looked for such a sudden return, and the failure of his own blow to land had thrown him off his poise.

The walking delegate turned half way about under the force of the blow, wavered for a brief instant, then measured his length on the wooden sidewalk, flat on his face.

"I'm sorry I did that," muttered Steve, with a revulsion of feeling.

"But I had to, or I should have been roughly handled."

He turned Cavard over, looking into the man's pale face. Cavard was dazed, but Steve saw that he was not seriously hurt and would recover in a minute.

The boy's inclination was to hurry away. He conquered it. He was too much of a man to do a thing like that, so he stepped back a few paces, where he stood with folded arms waiting for his victim to recover.

This Cavard quickly did. He staggered to his feet unsteadily, still dazed and uncertain. All at once he fixed his eyes on the face of the Iron Boy.

"You--you whelp! You--you'll suffer for that cowardly blow. I'll--I'll hound you out of the camp, or else I'll----"

"Get run out yourself," finished Steve. "Good night."

With that the lad turned and walked briskly down the street. Cavard stood gazing after him for a moment, then started unsteadily for his own home. Could Steve Rush have seen the expression on the face of the walking delegate at that moment, he might possibly have thought better of his determination to remain in the mining town and fight his unequal battle.

The lad also had started for home, but he was destined to be still further delayed. His experiences for that night were not yet at an end.

A heavy hand was all at once laid on his shoulder with a grip so powerful that the boy winced.

He whirled about, expecting to find himself face to face with Cavard, and ready to do battle.

Instead, Rush found a giant form towering over him, peering down into his face.

"h.e.l.lo, Olsen; is that you?"

The man nodded.

Segunder Olsen was an Icelander, a veritable giant in stature, and known to be a man possessing great strength. He had been forced out with his fellows when the strike was called. Steve had never pa.s.sed half a dozen words with the Icelander. The latter was a taciturn man, but one who could do a day's work that was the wonder of the men who worked with him.

"What do you want, Olsen?" demanded Steve, trying to release himself from the other's grip.

"You make this strike, huh?"

"What--why certainly not. What made you think I did?"