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 reëntering his own office.

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

"Neither."