A pile of rubbish had been thrown out that afternoon, in cleaning up the hall for the evening meeting. There were papers, excelsior, burlap and other soft substances in the heap. It was on this heap that the Iron Boys had fallen in their plunge from the second story, and to that heap of rubbish they no doubt owed their lives. As it was, however, they were badly bruised and shaken.
"They must have thrown us out," said Rush, sitting up and rubbing the bruised spots on his body. "The hounds! But no, I shouldn't blame them so much. Cavard is the man who incited them to violence. Bob, I believe he planned, before the meeting, to do that very thing. I was warned not to come here to-night, and the person who warned me was in a position to know what plans Cavard had in mind."
"Who warned you?"
"You asked that once before, and I told you I could not tell you. I wouldn't under any circumstances give the name of the person who warned me."
"Let me help you up."
Steve was painfully getting to his feet.
"No; I am able to take care of myself."
"Came pretty near having a fight, didn't we?" grinned Jarvis.
"Almost," admitted Rush. "The ones I most wanted to hit weren't in that mix-up. That is my greatest regret. Another is that we had to damage some of the men who were once our friends."
"Served them right! They don't deserve sympathy," growled Jarvis. "We didn't give it to them hard enough. I guess some of them won't forget the walloping they got for many days to come."