"Yes, sir, that's what I thought; and not a man of the crowd that had gathered went to the boy's assistance. They seemed to think it was a barrel of fun. Well, sir, you know I couldn't stand for that."
"I should say not."
"I just sailed in, and we had it right and left all over the street. He had a sore nose and I played a tune on that for a little while. I had a sore head, where I got burned the other day in the mill, and Kalinski played rag-time on that. After awhile there wasn't any more music left in either of us, except in our ears. Mine were ringing like a church bell at Christmas time."
By this time both superintendents were laughing at the humorous recital of the Iron Boy. Even Steve Rush was smiling, despite his efforts to be serious.
"What next?" questioned Mr. Keating, brushing his hand across his face to hide his laughter.
"I wound up with a tattoo on his face, and Kalinski went to the ground, and I didn't kick him either. It came pretty close to being a fight."
"I should say it was a real fight," remarked the superintendent dryly. "Then Rush had no part in it at all?"
"He came in when we were having it hardest, and the crowd was getting ready to jump on me because they saw I was getting the best of the pit boss. Rush held the crowd back so I should have fair play; that's all."
"What was Brodsky doing all this time?"