"Look out!" shouted the boy.
Mr. Keating turned sharply to see what the lad wanted. He knew that some danger menaced them, but he did not know the nature of that danger.
There was no time for explanations. A second would mean serious, if not fatal, injury to the two men.
The Iron Boy darted forward. Both hands were thrust forward, and with a mighty push he sent the chief engineer and the general superintendent of the mills staggering forward. They fell flat on the narrow footpath. At the same time Steve lost his balance and fell, right in the path of the five-ton mold of red hot iron. Yet the Iron Boy's presence of mind did not leave him for a second.
The bar of pig struck the planking of the footpath, went through it as if the planking had been paper and a few seconds later, hit the waters of the Monongahela, with a mighty splash from which a cloud of steam rose in the air.
The two men picked themselves up quickly.
"What is it? What does it mean?" demanded Mr. Phillips angrily. "Who pushed me? Who pushed us?"
"The boy who saved our lives," answered the superintendent. "Don't you see what happened?"
"No; I will confess that I do not. Something happened to the train, did it not?"
"A pig fell off, mold and all. It is down at the bottom of the river, now, as you can see by glancing down there at the cloud of steam."