"Yes; it is easy to see that. Have you any idea what this secrecy means?"
"Not the slightest in the world."
It was noticed that the red-haired stranger still lingered in town. Steve learned that the man was in frequent communication with certain of the workers in the mine, spending all, or the greater part of his evenings at Cavard's lodgings on Iron Street.
One evening late in the week Rush walked down to the village hotel, where he occasionally went to read the Chicago papers that were kept on file there. He had seated himself at the long, paper-littered table in the deserted reading room and settled himself for a quiet time. He had been reading for some time when he suddenly heard his name spoken.
Glancing up quickly the Iron Boy found himself looking into the florid face of the red-haired man whom he had seen with the Duke.
"Good evening, sir," said Steve innocently, resuming his reading.
"I am glad to make your acquaintance, young man. I have heard all about your heroism at the time of the fire in the mine. It was a brave piece of work that you and your friend—let's see, what is his name?"
"You mean Bob Jarvis?"
"Yes, that's the name—that you two did."
"Thank you. Let's talk about the weather."