Steve Rush did look. One look was enough. With a sudden exclamation he sprang for the slow-moving Italian, leaping the chutes at the risk of his life. The lad knew that the lives of every man there were in peril. By quick work only could he save them, and perhaps not then. CHAPTER XIX FACING A GREAT PERIL Bob Jarvis was after him with a bound. The lads had seen a little tongue of flame creeping up the sides of the bag on the back of the Italian. Mr. Penton saw it also, as did the president of the company. The two men understood the situation as fully as did the lads themselves, but the others of the company were laughing and chatting, unmindful of the dire peril that was threatening them. Mr. Carrhart and Mr. Penton half rose from their seats, their faces blanching noticeably. Steve by this time had reached the Italian burden-bearer. Stretching forth his hands, he grasped the bag, giving it a powerful tug. The Italian toppled over backwards, the loop slipping over his head, leaving the sack and its contents in the hands of Steve Rush. In the meantime the attention of the visitors had been attracted. They discovered all at once that something unusual was taking place. "Hello, what's this--a fight?" cried Mr. Cary. Those who knew did not answer. They stood with pale faces, wide-eyed, watching the efforts of the Iron Boys. No sooner had Steve gotten possession of the bag than the Italian leaped to his feet. With an angry imprecation, he sprang at Steve, knife in hand. But Jarvis was watching him. The boy made a leap, landing a powerful blow with his fist on the back of the Italian's head. The man collapsed in a heap. Bob was down on his knees beside his companion in an instant. Steve had thrown the burning bag into the gutter extending along the track, where there trickled a little stream of water that had been turned a dull red by the iron ore. There was little water there, but Rush was scooping up what there was of the water and mud, and with it patting out the fire in the sack. Bob began doing the same, but now little flames were starting up all over the bag. "Beat it out with your hands!" cried Steve. "It's getting the best of us. If it reaches the fuses, we're done for!" "Skip, Steve; let me do it." Rush did not answer. He was beating a tattoo on the bag, now and then grabbing up a handful of mud and water to soothe the hands which were already quite badly burned. "It's out," announced Bob at last. The Iron Boys' prompt action had prevented the fuses from igniting. All this had occupied but a few seconds. Instinctively the visitors realized that something was wrong, but they did not understand what that something was. Steve rolled the bag over two or three times, soaking it as well as he could with the little water at hand. He then opened the mouth of the sack, emptying the contents into the gutter and soaking that with water. This done, he threw the sack away and straightened up, his face flushed from his exertions.