"Well, boy?" called Mr. Spooner.

"Yes, sir."

"Are you going to stay there and have your fool head blown off?"

"Why----"

"Don't you see, they're going to fire a charge of dynamite. Get out of that!"

"Stand c-l-e-a-r!" called the powder-man in a sing-song tone.

All hands ran back so as to be well out of the way, and now that Steve understood what was being done, he shouldered his shovel and moved leisurely off in the direction taken by the others.

"That's the worst of a fool kid," grumbled the contractor. "They don't know enough to come in out of the wet----"

"The fuse is fired! Look out!" warned the powder-man, starting away from the scene on a run.

Steve watched the sputtering, squirming fuse far down the drift as the flame neared the charge of dynamite, six pounds all told. It seemed to him that all of them were in a dangerous position, but not being familiar with blasting, he supposed the miners knew their own business best.

It is always an anxious moment in the mines when, gathered in an expectant group, the workers underground stand waiting for the charge of dynamite to explode. It is seldom that anyone speaks during this brief period of suspense until the flash comes, followed by a puff of white smoke, a heavy report and a rain of rock and ore.

In this instance the wait seemed unusually long. The flash did not come.

"Missed hole," announced Spooner in a tone of disgust. "Five minutes of valuable time lost. That's the way the money goes in this gang. Get in there and attach a new fuse, powder-man. Don't be all day about it, either. If I wasn't around here to watch things we wouldn't get half a dozen tons a day out of this drift. First thing you know we'll all be out of a job. Come, are you going to get in there?"

"It ain't safe," answered the powder-man, shaking his head, sending a shower of grease from his candle into the face of Steve Rush.

"I see I've got to do it myself," exclaimed Spooner, grabbing a handful of fuses from the shoulders of the man who handled the dynamite.

The powder-man reached for his fuses, but the contractor already had them in his hand and was striding toward the drift.

The powder-man hesitated, then started after him on a trot.

"It's again' the rules, sir, to go in until ten minutes after firing the fuse when there's a missed hole," he warned.

"Rules!" jeered the contractor. "I'm the rules. I guess I'm running this drift."

By this time both men had reached the dome-like s.p.a.ce where the drift ended, which included a very rich vein of iron ore.

Steve Rush shaded his eyes and, stooping over, peered into the drift. He was looking between the two men who at that moment were arguing excitedly. They appeared to have forgotten that they were treading on dangerous ground, but long familiarity with high explosives had made them careless.

The lad saw something a few feet beyond them that caused his heart to leap. A tiny spark had sprung up from the darkness, then as suddenly died out.

"Look out!" shouted the young miner, now keenly alive to the danger of the men ahead.

"Keep that kid still, or throw him down on the next level!" called Spooner over his shoulder. "I expect he'll have an attack of hysterics when we fire the blast."

"I tell you it isn't a missed hole!" cried the boy.

"Don't be a fool," jeered the head trammer.

Steve did not hear him. The boy had started off with a bound. His hat dropped from his head and his shovel fell clattering to the ground.

"Come back, I tell you!" shouted Rush.

A few seconds more and he was right upon them. Without wasting further words of warning, he grabbed the contractor, and with surprising strength for one of his build, Steve hurled Spooner far out into the drift, that official bellowing his rage at the indignity.

Steve reached for the powder-man. His hands had just been laid on the man's shoulders when there came a blinding flash, a detonating report, a rending and tearing of rocks, then a shower of ore and stone.

Darkness settled over the drift and all was still.

CHAPTER VI

IN THE POWDER-WRECKED DRIFT

For a moment those outside the end of the drift stood in awed silence.

The candles on the hats of the miners had been extinguished by the explosion.

Nothing will cause an underground miner to lose his head quicker than being plunged into sudden darkness. Several of them set up a terrified yell.

"Hold your tongues!" bellowed the contractor. "You haven't been hurt.

Don't you know enough to light your candles? That's the best way I know of to get rid of the darkness."

Spooner lighted his own candle, holding it in his hand above his head as he looked about. He stepped forward toward the place where his men had been drifting in the ore.

"Just as I expected," he growled. "More time wasted."

The timbers that had supported the roof of the drift had crashed downward, carrying with them a few tons of rock and ore, blocking the pa.s.sage completely.

"Are--are the men in there killed?" questioned a trammer in unsteady tones.

"How should I know?" growled the contractor. "I do know that we are losing a lot of valuable time. If that fool powder-man hadn't been in such a hurry we should have been spared all this delay. Get busy with your shovels and picks here."

There were ugly scowls on the faces of the miners as they sprang forward to obey the order of their employer. They knew full well that it was not the fault of either the powder-man or Steve Rush, but of Spooner himself. It was he who had insisted upon going into the drift to examine the missed hole, and had it not been for the bravery of Steve the contractor would now be lying dead behind the ma.s.s of rock.

The men spoke no word, but their hearts were full of indignation. They cared not for the loss of time, nor for any other loss that their employer might have suffered. They did care for the unfortunate man and boy buried in the drift.

In the meantime word had been conveyed to the mine captain that an accident had occurred in number seventeen. With a force of men he was already hurrying to the scene as fast as an electric tram could carry him. The word he had received was to the effect that several men had been killed. The company's surgeon had been sent for and all preparations were made to care for the wounded.

During all this time brave little Steve Rush lay inside the drift, half buried under rock and red ore. He had toppled backwards when the explosion came, half turned and had fallen face downward, his arms crossed under his forehead so that his nose and mouth were free.

Otherwise he undoubtedly would have smothered before help could reach him.

Steve stirred uneasily, coughed and tried to raise himself. He could not do so. He found himself held down by an oppressive weight. Some little time elapsed before his return to consciousness, and even then he was still dazed. At first he tried hard to recall what had happened, and at last it all came back to him.

"There was another in here with me--the powder-man. I wonder if he is dead?" muttered the lad.