Steve was late that night, as before, but he had fared a little better. He had found a job in a mill for himself and Bob. It was not much of a job—merely carrying water for the men in the tube mill at fifty cents a day.
The Iron Boy did not agree to accept the proffered employment, but said that in case he found nothing better he would report for duty on the following Monday morning if this would be satisfactory. It was, and so the matter was left.
Jarvis was out on the street again. The bandages were off his hands, but he still wore one over the upper part of his face. The lad had gone out, hoping to meet Steve and walk home with him. All at once Jarvis discovered Brodsky walking ahead of him. As usual the Pole was looking about him keenly.
"He is hunting for some one," muttered Bob. "I think I will see what the little rascal is up to. I'll bet he's up to some mischief."
Ignatz led Jarvis quite a chase, and it was nearly nine o'clock when the Pole halted. Kalinski was just coming out of the post-office. The boss stopped short when he saw Brodsky, and Brodsky stopped short as he caught sight of the pit boss.
"Hello! I begin to smell a rat," chuckled Bob. "I wonder what he and the boss can have in common?"
Jarvis edged up a little closer. Brodsky and the pit boss were slowly approaching each other. Bob was almost trembling with excitement. The very air vibrated with trouble.
"I actually believe that little runt is going to pick a fight with the big fellow. Well, of all the nerve I ever heard of! Why, Kalinski will eat him alive."
Bob waited to see what would happen.
"All liars!" howled Brodsky, both feet leaving the ground as he leaped straight at the boss. Kalinski's fist grazed the Polish boy's cheek, and the lad, with a quickness that would not have been thought of him, planted his own fist in the face of Kalinski.