"Men say you tell bosses not to pay us money. Then we must strike and get more. Huh?"

"They have told you lies, Olsen. I tried to prevent the strike. I knew how much you would all suffer if there were a strike, but the men would not listen to me. You may go to work if you wish to. There is nothing to hinder your doing so."

"Not have me."

"Oh, yes, they will."

"You come with me, huh?"

"Where to?"

"Come; I show you what strike does. You come home with me, you see what strike does."

Without waiting for the boy to a.s.sent, Olsen, with his grip still on Steve's shoulder, started, fairly dragging the Iron Boy along with him.

Rush no longer offered any resistance. Something about the Icelander impressed the boy strongly. There was a note of hopelessness in the man's tone, though his face was impa.s.sive, which told Steve that the fellow was suffering great mental anguish.

"You need not hang to my shoulder, Olsen. I will go with you if you want me to," said the boy in a kindly tone.

But Segunder gave no heed. He held tightly to Steve's shoulder. The two hurried on, the Icelander taking long strides. He led the way to the outskirts of the village, coming to a halt before a dilapidated, one-storied cottage, the door of which Olsen pushed open, thrusting Steve Rush in. Olsen followed, closing the door.

A solitary candle furnished all the light there was in the room. There was no fire in the stove, though the weather was cold, the snow falling early in that far northern region.

A woman sat holding a baby close to her to give the child some of the warmth from her own body. She was pale and thin, but Steve noted that her eyes lighted up as they fixed themselves upon the face of Olsen.

On a bed lay a girl of some ten years. The child was thin and emaciated, and the Iron Boy saw at once that she was in a high fever.

"Him make strike," announced Olsen, pointing to Steve Rush.

"Madame, are you Mrs. Olsen?" asked the lad.

"Yes, sir," answered the woman in good English. "Who are you?"

"My name is Rush. Your husband has brought me here, for what purpose I do not know."

"He says you are responsible for this terrible strike. Are you?"

"I am not. I have had no more to do with bringing it on than you. I did all I could to prevent it. Your husband is in error. The men have told him untruths about me. If your husband wishes to leave the union and go to work, I will see that he begins work to-morrow. Has he tried?"

"Yes, sir. He has been to the mine nearly every day, but they would not take him."

"Whom did you ask for work?" demanded Steve, turning to Olsen.

"Little captain, Red Rock."

"You mean Mr. Barton, mining captain of the Red Rock Mine?"

Olsen nodded.

"And he would not take you back?"

"Him no take me."

"He will to-morrow," said Steve.

"Oh, if you will do that for my husband, I shall bless you!" exclaimed the woman. "Segunder, this young man is a good man. Surely he could not have brought this terrible thing upon us."

Segunder's face relaxed a little.

"Are you in need of a.s.sistance, Mrs. Olsen?"

The woman hesitated. Her pride was battling with her love for her little family.

"Oh, yes, sir; we are. We do not care for ourselves, my husband and myself, but our children! Just look at them!"

"Have you been to the union, Olsen, and asked them to give you money?"

Olsen shrugged his shoulders.

"No help."

"What is the matter with the little girl on the bed there?"

"She has pneumonia."

"Have you had a doctor?"

"Yes; but he would not come again because we had no money to pay him."

"The cur!" muttered Steve under his breath.

"We have not had a thing in the house to eat since yesterday morning, and then there was scarcely a mouthful apiece."

Segunder smote the table a terrible blow with his fist. The baby asleep in its mother's arms awakened and began crying loudly.

"I kill bosses. I kill them!" shouted Olsen in a terrible voice. "I bring you here to kill you. Maybe you lie to me. Then I kill you, anyhow!"

"Segunder, Segunder!" cried the woman aghast. "This young man is going to help you. He is going to give you work. Don't you understand?"

Olsen grabbed Steve by both shoulders, and, pushing him over to the light, peered long and earnestly into the eyes of the Iron Boy. Then the huge Icelander drew a deep breath that seemed to come from his boots.

"You no lie? You speak true? You give me work?"

"To-morrow morning. And I will do more than that. Cheer up, Mrs. Olsen.

I am going away now, but I shall be back within an hour. You shall have a doctor, and you shall have something else. Olsen, you stay here until I return," commanded Rush sternly. "Mrs. Olsen, see to it that he remains in the house."

Steve was out of the place with a bound. He did not walk this time, but started away on a run. He knew where there was a doctor, not far away, and he made straight for the doctor's house.

"There is a sick child in one of the strikers' homes," said the lad, as the doctor opened the door. "I wish you would go and look after the child."