The Iron Boys in the Mines; or, Starting at the Bottom of the Shaft

"IS Mr. Carrhart in?"

"Maybe he is, and maybe he isn't," answered the office boy, grinning sardonically. "Who are you?"

"My name is Stephen Rush and I wish to see Mr. Carrhart, the president of the mining company," answered the first speaker, a lad of some sixteen years, dark-haired, dark-eyed and slight of build.

"What do you want to see him about?"

"That is what I have come to tell him," replied young Rush, directing a level gaze at the boy, who was half a head taller and much more stocky of build than was Steve. "May I speak with the president?"

"No; you may not speak with Mr. Carrhart."

"Why not, please? It is quite important."

"Because I won't let you."

"You won't let me?"

"No."

"Will you not take my name in-tell him I shall not detain him?"

"No!"

For a moment Steve Rush stood looking at the office boy, undecided and disappointed. He had not thought there would be any difficulty in getting a few words with the man he had come to see.

"Go on-skip!"

The office boy, without giving the caller an opportunity to obey his command, sprang forward, and, pressing both hands against Steve's chest, began shoving the lad out into the corridor. Steve was stepping backwards so fast that he was unable to free himself from the belligerent office boy.

All at once young Rush took advantage of a momentary pause of his antagonist, and sprang lightly to one side. The next instant his fingers closed over the wrists of the office boy, shutting down with a grip that made the other writhe.

"Leggo my hands!"

The office boy shook himself free, then swung a vicious blow at Steve's head. To the former's surprise his blow landed on thin air, but ere he could square himself for another swing the grip of young Rush had once more fastened on his wrists. And this time there was no breaking away. Tighter and tighter grew the pressure on the office boy's wrists.

"Leggo! O-u-c-h! Leggo, I tell you!" cried the latter, raising his voice so high that office doors were quickly opened along the corridor, heads popping out, their owners demanding to know what the uproar was about.

"Will you take my name in to Mr. Carrhart?" demanded Steve in a low, firm tone.

"No, I won't. I'll trim you for this. I'll--"

Steve, with a strength that would not have been believed of him, calmly began leading his prisoner back into the office.

"Young man, I think I shall take you to Mr. Carrhart. We shall see what he has to say about you. I do not believe he will be pleased when I tell him how you have acted. I--"

Just then a door opened and a young man stepped out.

"Here, here, here, what does this mean?" demanded the newcomer sharply.

"He's hurting me; he's--"

Steve quickly released the hands of the office boy, and removing his hat, stepped forward respectfully.

"Are you Mr. Carrhart, sir?"

"No; I'm his secretary. What is the meaning of this disturbance?"

"I was trying to see Mr. Carrhart--"

"You have a most peculiar way of going about it, I must say," was the sharp reply. "What did you wish to see him about?"

"I want to get a job."

"At what?"

"Anything-preferably in the mines."

The secretary laughed.

"I am sorry, young man, but the president is a very busy man. And besides, this is not the place to come for a situation in the mines. You will have to apply to one of the superintendents at the mines. However, I believe you are too young and--"

"But I am quite strong, sir. I am sure I shall be able to do a day's work. I am anxious--"

"You will have to apply as I have just suggested. You cannot see the president," announced the secretary shortly, turning on his heel and re?ntering his own office.

"Yah, yah!" jeered the office boy. "Now, Mr. Smarty, will you get out or shall I put you out?"

"Neither."

"What's that?"

"You will not put me out, and I propose to remain here until I get a chance to see your employer," announced Steve in a low, firm tone. He calmly seated himself on a bench just outside the door of the office reception room.

The office boy's eyes narrowed angrily. He took a step toward Rush, then, apparently thinking better of it, strode back to his little square desk and threw himself into a chair, where he sat glowering at the calm-eyed boy out in the corridor.

Steve sat gazing steadily at the door of a room on which was written the word "President." Now and then he caught sight of a shadow within, through the ground-glass partition, and now and again the sound of voices reached him.

"Are you going to move?" demanded a voice at his side.

Steve glanced up, finding the office boy standing close to him, a threatening scowl on his face.

"I told you I was waiting to see the president."

"You are, eh?"

"Yes."

"How are you going to see him?"

"I am going to wait here until he comes out."

"If you don't get put out before that."

"Then I shall wait out in the lobby by the elevator. You can't put me out, for I am not in your office."

With a grunt the office boy returned to his desk. At about that time Rush caught sight of the figure of a man behind the glass of the door leading into the president's room. The lad was all attention at once.

After a moment the door swung open and a man stepped out into the corridor and started for the elevator.

"I beg pardon, sir, are you Mr. Carrhart?" questioned Steve.

"Mr. Carrhart?"

"Yes, sir."

"Why, no, my lad; what made you think I was?"

"I beg your pardon, sir. I saw you come out of the president's office and I wanted to see him very much," stammered the lad.

"Then why don't you go to see him?"

"I'm going to," answered Steve in a resolute tone. "Thank you, sir."

With that the lad turned, walking rapidly back. He did not stop when he had reached the bench just outside the reception room. Instead, he stepped firmly up to the door of the president's office. His hand was upon the door knob.

"Here, you, where you going?" cried the office boy, bounding after him.

Steve made no reply, whereupon the office boy started for him again. But the latter was not quick enough. Rush opened the door to the private office and stepped within. The office boy prevented his closing the door, and a second later had bolted in after the visitor. Then things began to happen with surprising quickness. Rush went down in a heap, the office boy landing on his back. Over and over the two lads rolled, clasped in a tight embrace.

"Here, here! What does this mean?" demanded the president, gazing with amazement at the rough-and-tumble battle going on at his very feet.

Neither lad appeared to have heard him, for the rolling and floundering continued a few seconds longer. All at once Steve got a firm grip on the wrist of his antagonist. The office boy uttered a yell as the wrist was bent backwards. Rush swung him over on his face and sat down on him somewhat out of breath.

"Is this-is this Mr. Carrhart, sir?" stammered Steve.

"It is. But may I inquire what this remarkable performance means?"

"I came to see you, sir."

"You go about it in a very peculiar manner. Get up!"

"I can't, sir; the boy will want to fight me again."

"I will attend to the boy. Get up at once!"

Rush rose to his feet. As he had predicted, the office boy made another dash for him, but this Steve avoided by stepping to one side.

"Oscar, that will do!" said Mr. Carrhart sternly. "You have done your duty as you saw it. You may leave the room."

The office boy obeyed, casting an angry glance at the unruffled countenance of Steve Rush as he closed the door behind him.

"Now, what is it you want, young man?" questioned the president. "State your business briefly, for I have no time to waste."

"I am looking for a position, sir."

Mr. Carrhart was about to make a sharp reply, when, chancing to glance into the face of the lad before him, he saw something there that arrested the words he was about to utter. The boy's face showed an earnestness of purpose, a stubborn determination that led the mining president to modify his tone.

"You wish a position?" he asked not unkindly.

"Yes, sir."

"What position are you looking for?"

"I wish to go into the iron mines; I wish to learn the business, sir. I am stronger than I look--"

"Yes, I have just had evidence of that fact. But why do you come to me?"

"Because you are the head of the mines. Should I not go to the head when I am looking for a position?"

"Perhaps you are right at that, my lad. What is your name?"

Steve gave his name and his age, also adding that he had completed half his course at the high school in Duluth.

"Why did you not continue with your school? You should be in school at your age, rather than going to work."

"I should like to be, sir, but circumstances have arisen that make it necessary for me to go to work."

"What are those circumstances?"

"My father died four weeks ago, and I must work to help support my mother," answered the lad, a slight flush suffusing his cheeks.

"Does your mother work?"

"She is not able to take a position, sir. She does some sewing, and, with what I shall be able to earn in a little while, we shall get along very nicely."

"Hm-m-m!" mused the president. "You are very confident."

"Yes, sir. Because I am willing to work."

"Have you tried to get a position in town? I should think that would be better for a lad of your age than to work in the mines."

"No, sir; I have always wanted to be a miner. I want to start at the bottom and learn the business."

"I am afraid you could not stand it, my lad," answered Mr. Carrhart after brief reflection. "And, besides, as you understand, all the hiring is done by the officials at the mines."

"Yes, sir. But you need have no fear that I shall not be able to do a man's work. I was one of the best athletes in the high school. I was quite frail when I began going to school, but by systematic exercise I have built myself up. I can stand a much greater strain than you would imagine to look at me. If I do not make good they will not keep me. Won't you please give me a chance to try, sir?"

"How would you like to come in the office here?"

"I should like it, of course, sir; but, as I have already said, I prefer to begin at the bottom and work up."

"My lad, you are of the right stuff. You will get on in the world. Not much of anything matters in the face of such determination as yours. The work in the mines is very hard. You will find rough men there and you will meet with more or less temptation, but I believe you are strong enough to keep yourself above it."

"Yes, sir. I am sure of that, sir."

By this time Mr. Carrhart was busily writing. Steve watched him, not quite certain whether or not the interview was at an end.

"You-you will give me a chance, sir?" asked the lad after a moment's silence.

"Yes; here is a letter to the general superintendent of the Cousin Jack Mine. I have asked him to give you employment at the earliest possible moment. I shall hope to hear good reports from you, Rush. Remember what I have said to you. I shall keep an eye on you."

"Oh, thank you, sir; thank you! I cannot tell you how I appreciate your kindness."

"Purely a matter of business, my lad. I see in you the making of an excellent man for the company. We are looking for young men with your determination and grit."

As Steve passed out through the reception room the office boy stepped in front of him.

"I'll lick you the first time I catch you outside," announced the guardian of the door.

"Please don't," answered Steve. "Somebody might get hurt. Besides, I am not a fighter. Good afternoon."

Rush hurried out to carry the good news to his mother.

"That boy has the making of a great man," mused Carrhart, as he stood with hands clasped behind his back, gazing down into the street. "Yes, he will be heard from some of these days, unless I am greatly in error."

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