"Oh, you are, eh? Well, I think I shall have something to say about that. You're not going to work here, and I should like to know what you are doing down in this mine, anyway. I'll have the mine captain put you out. It's my opinion that you are not here for any good, and you're lucky if he doesn't turn you over to the mine police." "I have been assigned to work in this drift. The superintendent ordered me to report to you, sir. I am ready to go to work." The contractor gazed at the boy with a puzzled expression on his face. "You, a boy like you, work here? Pooh! What do you think this is, a kindergarten?" "I am able to do a day's work; besides, it is the superintendent's orders, sir." Spooner knew the boy had the best of him there. The superintendent's orders were to be obeyed, no matter if Spooner was mining on a contract agreement. "Very well; if you want to work you shall have all the work you can do. I'll see the superintendent about your case when I go up to-day noon." "What shall I do?" "Do? Don't you see anything to do?" "I see some things I should like to do," answered Steve Rush in a significant tone, eyeing the contractor steadily. "Get hold of that shovel. I can't break your head as I ought to do, but the shovel will break your back before you get through with this day's work." Steve grasped the shovel and began throwing the ore into the waiting car. Spooner eyed the lad narrowly for a few moments. He was obliged to admit that Rush handled the shovel as well as any man he had ever had in his gang. "You ought to be in the bull gang," jeered the contractor. "Yes, sir, you are wasting your talents working in an ore drift." "What is a bull gang?" questioned the lad between shovels. "That is the gang that shifts the timber down into the mine," answered the man shoveling by Steve's side. "The timber-men below take the stuff and build the supports and the lagging to keep the levels from caving in, you know." "Where's your candle?" demanded Spooner. "You're a nice sort of a miner to come to work without a candle in your stick!" "I lost it. You see, I lost my way and had a time getting here," explained Steve. "Get one when you go up to-day noon. And remember you get only two hours' pay for the forenoon. If you're ever late like this again you are through right then and there." Steve did not answer. He shoveled with all his might. "Ready for the powder," called the head drill-man. All the men save Steve and the powder-man laid down their tools and moved off. The boy continued at his work, his shovel making a steady scrape, scrape as he threw the ore up into the car. In the meantime the powder-man was adjusting a charge of dynamite in each of the holes in the ore made by the drills. "Well, boy?" called Mr. Spooner. "Yes, sir." "Are you going to stay there and have your fool head blown off?" "Why----" "Don't you see, they're going to fire a charge of dynamite. Get out of that!"