"I beg your pardon. You were starting to tell me how you brought about the conditions you mentioned a few moments ago."
"Yes. In the first place, the corporations like to have their men organized. It makes for better service all around. Well, to proceed, I will explain that, having organized, we should appoint a committee to wait upon the official who is in charge of the mines. This committee would lay before the superintendent, if he were the man called upon, such grievances as we might think existed. There would be a friendly discussion, and he, seeing the wisdom of what our committee demanded, would no doubt grant the request made."
"What if he refused?" interjected Steve.
"I presume it would go before the president of the mining company. At least, we should see that the grievances were carried to him."
"And if he refused to grant your demands, what then?" persisted Steve Rush, his keen eyes fixed upon the red-headed president of the Association.
"Well, we should find a way to compel them to grant our demands," answered Mr. Driscold significantly.
"It seems to come back to the point of throttling a man," said Rush. "I never could become enthusiastic over the profession of highwayman, and it strikes me that this is about what the proposition amounts to."
The Iron Boy was pitting his wits against those of two shrewd and experienced men, who were seeking to lure him on by offering him sugar-coated pills. But Steve Rush knew full well, young as he was in the world's ways, that the inside of the pill was bitter and unpalatable. The lad was holding his own to such an extent that the man Driscold had adopted a sharp, incisive tone at several points in the discussion.
"You are wrong, Rush," interrupted Cavard. "You are altogether wrong."
"Perhaps I am, but I am trying to get to the bottom of the question. You spoke, Mr. Driscold, a moment ago, of finding a way to compel the officials of the company to agree to your demands. How would you go about it?"