Bob Jarvis, who was at the rail, heard the cry. He divined the truth instantly. Springing to an open hatch he leaned over, bellowing out the name of his companion into the hold. There was no response. Bob did not believe there would be.
"Stop it! Stop it!" he shouted.
It is doubtful if the crane man heard, and if he did he failed to understand, for the big shell kept on mounting to the top of the trestle.
"What's the matter!" demanded the mate. "You're enough to raise the dead."
Jarvis did not stop to answer. He sprang for the side of the ship, leaped over the rail, and, catching the sides of the ladder, shot down to the pier without touching a single rung of the ladder. The instant his feet touched the pier the lad darted off to the trestle. A cleat ladder extended up the side of the trestle to the top. Bob ran up it like a real sailor and rushed over the ties to the place where the train was being loaded for the furnaces.
In the meantime, Steve Rush had been hoisted to the top. He knew what was coming. The lad braced his feet and shoulders against opposite sides of the scoop, hoping thereby to hold himself in place. He had forgotten that the shell would open up at the proper moment in order to discharge its load—would open up so wide that not even a fragment of anything would be left within it.
Suddenly the great jaws of the shell opened with a crash and a bang. There followed the roar of rushing iron ore as it dropped into the waiting ore car on the track.
Rush dropped like a stone. He landed in the railroad car, half buried under the ore, dazed and bleeding from the sharp pieces of ore that had hit him on the head during his descent.
"Hey there, stop it, stop it!" shouted Jarvis, running toward the spot as the crane was swinging the scoop off toward the ship for another load.