Rush did not understand the full meaning of the words. He was troubled. Things were not going with the same smoothness that they had for the last two years. Steve was in an atmosphere different from that of the mines, or even of the lakes. He did not know just how to adjust himself to the conditions. Then, again, there was Bob in the hospital, perhaps dying.
"I must do my duty, and I'm going to do it," muttered the Iron Boy. "They shan't say that I am not to be depended upon. What do you want me to do, Mr. Kalinski?" he asked, turning to the pit boss.
"Now, what do you suppose I want you to do? What were you doing before you two blew up the mill?"
"In the first place we did not blow up the mill. I was working in pit seven when the other one exploded."
"Then git back in number seven, unless you want me to throw you in—or out of the mill altogether. I'll have you fired if the boss don't do it for me."
"I don't think you will fire me," answered Steve, bristling.
"I won't, eh?"
"No, you won't!"
"I'll either fire you out of the shop or else I'll break your head for you. Take your choice."