Steve jumped off.
"Thank you," he called, but the miner did not hear him, for the car had dropped quickly out of sight.
Water that had dripped down through the shaft from the surface and the upper levels was, by this time, running from the oilskins of the young miner in tiny rivulets. Dampness was everywhere. A blast of hot, damp air smote him in the face as he turned to look about him.
"I wonder where I am to go?" muttered Steve.
A heavy fog hung over everything, electric lights glowing dimly through the haze, so that one was able to see but a few feet ahead.
"Where is the Spooner contract?" called Steve to a passing miner.
The man jerked a hand over his shoulder, whereupon the lad made his way cautiously down the level or tunnel, which is the main avenue, and from which other tunnels, called drifts, run off into the ore beds.
By this time the mine was in full operation. Strange sounds smote the ears of the young miner. The roar of the electric tram cars as they dashed by him, now and then narrowly missing running him down, the thunder of the skips, huge black objects hurling themselves surfaceward loaded with iron ore, the bang, bang of the drills and the detonations of many dynamite explosions, filled the heart of Steve Rush with awe and wonder.
The lad was confused. He did not know which way to turn, nor what second he might step into an opening and plunge downward. Had he but known it there was little danger of such an accident so long as he kept to the main level. There were many dangerous holes—ore chutes—but these ordinarily were protected so that there was little chance of one's falling through them. Such accidents, however, had been known to occur.