The strike had been on for about six weeks, and thus far the Iron Boys had avoided coming into conflict with the strikers, though the lads had been goaded almost to the point of desperation every time they showed themselves at the shaft, or where the strikers were congregated in the village. The strikers often sought to draw the boys into a fight, so that they might have a good excuse to beat the lads.
Rush and Jarvis were too shrewd to be caught in the trap. By this time they had become more and more a thorn in the side of Cavard. They were interfering with his plans. Their activity was too great to suit him, and the walking delegate planned to rid himself of his young foes in a way that would effectively dispose of them.
As Steve was passing the Cavard home on the evening in question, he glanced up and saw Miss Cavard standing on the front door step.
"Good evening, Mr. Rush," she greeted him. "Won't you come in?"
"No, thank you."
"I wish you would. I want to talk to you."
"You will excuse me, but I could not think of entering your brother's home, Miss Cavard."
"He is not at home. He is away much of the time now. I feel that I may trust you, Mr. Rush. I do not approve of my brother's actions, but he is my brother, just the same."
"I understand," murmured the boy.
"You remember an occasion, some time ago, when I begged you not to attend a certain meeting, do you not?"