"I wonder what ails that Indian?" muttered the lad. "He seems to be in a great hurry about something."
Bob's attention was attracted to the water, which was now spurting from the nozzle of the hose, the stream shooting right over where Steve was at work, sending a shower of fine spray down on him.
"Hey, what are you doing up there?" he shouted.
"Watering the plants," scoffed Jarvis.
"You just turn that hose the other way unless you are looking for trouble. Why don't you get to work?"
"Going to. I am at work already."
"Where is Kalinski?"
"He was sprinting down the shop the last I saw of him. He seemed to be in a mighty big hurry about something."
Bob dragged the hose over to the pit behind open-hearth number eight. Then he began playing the stream on the cinders full force. He did not know that this was a very dangerous proceeding. No one had told him, and the pit boss had merely intimated it when he said, "Remember, I warned you."
"This is fine," grinned the boy. "I could do this all day and not get a stitch in my back. Guess I will wet my legs."