"Which means nine. None of them ever gets there on time, except the fellows who don't spruce up as much as we do."
A few minutes later the Iron Boys were on their way to the meeting place. Before they reached the hall—the meeting this time taking place in the town hall, which was much larger than the place where they had first met—the lads found themselves in a great crowd. Voices were pitched high, and loud conversations were being carried on in many languages.
"This is something like what I imagine the Tower of Babel must have been," laughed Rush. "What a mob! Poor, misled fellows! They believe they have been greatly wronged. If they only knew how well they are treated there would be few to attend a meeting of this sort."
No one appeared to pay any attention to the Iron Boys as they made their way through the crowd and up the stairs into the big room, where a couple of hundred men had already assembled.
Everyone in the room was talking and gesticulating excitedly. The boys were thankful that they had been able to gain their seats without attracting any marked attention.
Cavard had already taken his place on the platform, where, with his new secretary, he was going over some papers spread out on a table before them.
Inside of twenty minutes after the arrival of the Iron Boys the hall was packed, every seat being taken, while rows of men four or five deep lined the sides of the room and the aisles.
Cavard rose, swept the assemblage with a half-triumphant glance, then rapped for order.
"The meeting will please come to order," he said quietly, standing motionless for a moment after perfect stillness had settled over the big room. The effect of his attitude was not lost on the miners. They were already deeply impressed with the importance of the occasion.
"The secretary will please read the minutes of the last meeting," directed the chairman, resuming his seat.