Bob gazed at his companion unbelievingly.
"Come now, you're joking. They're not all fools down at the mill. I blew up the pit—you didn't, and I didn't know that I was doing so, of course. I'm no anarchist, and neither are you."
"Nevertheless, they hold us responsible for it."
"I know who's at the bottom of this. It's that wooden Indian, Kalinski, and—and——"
"Foley," added Steve.
"Yes, they're a choice pair. They have had a rod in pickle for both of us ever since you made the report on Foley at the time of that burning accident. Did they fire us?"
"No, not directly. Mr. McNaughton did so, but they were at the bottom of it. They told him lies about us, and he believed them. Think of it, Bob. He wouldn't believe what I told him. He thought I was the one who was telling the untruths."
"Tell me all about it."
Rush did so, relating all that had occurred during his visit to the division superintendent's office, the injured boy listening with darkening face as the narration continued. He nodded approvingly when Steve related how he had invited the two men out to get their heads punched.
"Didn't go, did they?"