Several clerks, with coats and vests off, were lounging about the office of the great steel works in the accident department. The sun beat down on the building with relentless energy, and there was scarcely a breath of air stirring. There was little incentive to work, and hardly any one was making the slightest pretext at it.
Steve Rush and Bob Jarvis glanced inquiringly at the telephone operator. Being in the accident department, they were interested every time they heard the telephone bell ring. It was their duty, immediately upon an accident being reported in any of the mills, to proceed to the scene at once and gather all the facts for the future use of the company. Furthermore, they were allowed considerable latitude in the disposal of persons who had been injured.
"Anything doing?" questioned Jarvis.
"Accident," answered the operator in a tone that led one to believe that the mere effort of speaking gave him pain.
"Where?"
"Number twenty-four," meaning the building bearing that number. "That's in your district, Rush."
Bob Jarvis grinned.
"I am in luck that it isn't in my division. It's hot enough here, but excuse me from going into the mills on a day like this. Want any help, Steve?"
"No, thank you. And besides, you are too lazy to work to-day. You would only be a handicap to me. What is the accident, did they say?"
The operator shook his head wearily.