"Here, the kiddie's going to have first shot at the chops!" exclaimed Bob.

Picking up a fork, Jarvis speared a steaming hot chop from the pan, and, running across the room, held it out for the baby in Mrs. Olsen's arms.

The child extended a chubby fist for the hot morsel, whereat its mother uttered a cry of protest and quickly drew the child out of harm's way.

"Mercy! Don't do that! It would kill the little one."

"What, a lamb chop kill anybody? Why, I've eaten hundreds of them, and they have never killed me yet."

"What on earth are you trying to do, Bob?" demanded Steve Rush, turning on his companion.

"Oh, he wants the baby to eat a chop," answered Mrs. Olsen, half laughing, half crying.

"Well, of all the mutton heads!" exclaimed Steve. "Does the baby drink milk, Mrs. Olsen?"

"Yes, when we have it."

"Oh, that's too bad. But never mind; I'm going out in a few minutes, and I will send in some fresh milk for the little one. Come, now; sit up and have something to eat."

The family gathered at the table. The doctor, in the meantime, had wrapped the child in blankets, and, telling Mrs. Olsen she might call at the company's hospital in the morning to see it, the kind-hearted physician strode out of the house with his little burden. It was but a short distance to the company's hospital, and he believed he would be able to get the child there much more comfortably in his own arms than in the hospital ambulance.

With a gladness in her eyes that had not been seen there for many days Mrs. Olsen seated herself at the table. Segunder had to be fairly pushed there by Steve. Even when the big Icelander had taken his place at the table he did not eat. He sat with his big eyes fixed wonderingly on the face of Steve Rush.

"Now, you are all fixed and we will leave you. I'll send the milk in for the baby as soon as I can find it. I'll get it, even if I have to milk somebody's cow on the sly. Segunder, you come to me at the mine in the morning, and I will see that you get to work. Good night, all. Come on, Bob."

All at once Segunder Olsen's face was buried on his arms on the table and his huge frame was shaking with sobs of joy. He understood at last.

All that had been so unreal to him for the last hour had now become sudden, sweet realities.

The Iron Boys hastily left the house, and though neither would have admitted it, there was a suspicious moisture in the eyes of each.

CHAPTER XXI

THE ICELANDER ON THE TRAIL

ON the following morning Olsen reported to the mine, as directed by Steve. The latter had made some inquiries and the results had aroused his suspicion. Barton, the mine captain of the Red Rock, denied that Olsen had applied to him for work. He grew suddenly red under Steve's questioning. But Steve had Mr. Penton's authority for putting the Icelander to work, and the big man, after gripping Rush's hand until the boy felt like crying out, went to work with a will.

When Steve went home for lunch he found a note from Miss Cavard in which she wrote:

"You offered to help me relieve some of our poor, suffering people. I am taking you at your word. There is a family in dire distress on Cave Street. Their name is Allison. If you will meet me there to-night at eight o'clock, we will see what can be done for them. I wish to consult with you about some other charitable work, and that is one of the reasons I am asking you to meet me as stated above.

"Sincerely, MARIE CAVARD."

Steve decided that he would go. There was no good reason why he should not, and his heart really ached for the suffering families of the striking miners. If there were anything he could do to relieve their sufferings he would willingly do it. Already no small part of his wages had been devoted to this very work. Bob Jarvis also had contributed liberally to the cause.

Nothing of moment occurred during the day. When evening arrived Rush, dressed in his best, slipped out, not telling his companion where he was going. He found the house of the Allisons without difficulty. Steve knocked and was admitted. The hall in which he found himself was dark, and the house was as silent as if deserted. The lad did not even see any one who might have opened the door.

"h.e.l.lo, is anybody at home?" he called.

For answer he was struck a sudden and powerful blow. It sent the boy to the floor in a heap, where he lay as one dead.

Unseen hands lifted the unconscious lad from the floor, carried him down a flight of stairs and threw him upon a pile of straw.

Steve was young and strong, and nature rea.s.serted herself in a few moments. He got to his feet unsteadily and began groping about him.

"I--I wonder where I am?" he muttered.

After groping for some time, Rush decided that he must be in a cellar, but he seemed unable to find any way out of the place. There were no stairs, so far as he could determine, and he had no matches to light that he might look about him.

Rush sat down on the pile of straw to think matters over. He understood at once that someone had struck him down in the dark hall, but as to the ident.i.ty of his a.s.sailant he could not make up his mind. He had a pretty clear idea why the attack on him had been made. Yet the more he thought over the matter the more perplexed did he become as to certain features of it.

All at once the thought of the letter he had received from Miss Cavard entered his mind.

"It was a trick!" almost shouted Steve Rush. "She tricked me here for that scoundrel brother of hers. They wanted to get me here, so they could do me up, and they've won. What a fool I was! But I'll outwit them yet. I'll----"

Steve paused as he heard the sound of footsteps over his head.

"h.e.l.lo, up there!" he shouted.

There was no answer. The boy shouted again and again, but no attention was paid to his shouts. Apparently they had not been heard, although Steve doubted this to be the case.

Once more Rush tried to find some way out of his prison, but, as before, he failed to do so. After what seemed hours of waiting he decided that there was nothing to be gained by exciting himself, so he threw himself down on the heap of straw, and after a time went to sleep. Being young and vigorous, he was not kept awake by his worries.

Steve was awakened in the morning by the sounds of someone shaking a stove on the floor above. He listened, and understood that the people above were preparing breakfast.

Then the lad realized that he was hungry.

"h.e.l.lo, up there! Pa.s.s down some breakfast, even if you won't let me out." Then, in a lower tone: "If anyone comes down here with my breakfast, I'll walk over him and out pretty quick. I smell breakfast, and it seems to be right here. Whew, but it makes me ravenously hungry!"

Steve's foot at that moment kicked against something that he was sure had not been there on the previous night. He stooped over, when all at once his hands came in contact with a tin pan.

Rush investigated with more than ordinary curiosity.

"Meat, as I live! And hot, too! Why, the stuff must have been placed here within a very short time. And potatoes? Well, I _am_ in luck, after all. Evidently my jailers do not intend to starve me to death."

Steve ate with relish, though the meat was tough and the potatoes were not overdone. After he had finished the meal he felt better, though he would have appreciated a wash. He walked back and forth for an hour or so, feeling that he needed the exercise, after which he lay down for another nap.

In the meantime an alarm had been sent out for the Iron Boy. Bob Jarvis was sure that something had happened to his companion, as Steve never had remained away from home over night before. Jarvis reported the absence to the superintendent and a search was made. Late in the afternoon Bob, worried and irritable, met Olsen. To the latter he explained that Steve was missing.

Segunder listened attentively, but without change of expression.