The afternoon drew to a close all too soon for Steve, and not until the whistle blew at six o'clock and the miners in their oilskins came streaming up from their underground haunts, did the lad make up his mind to leave. With a sigh, he turned away, starting thoughtfully for the boarding house. Just before sitting down to supper he was introduced to a Cornishman, who, he was told, was to be his roommate. When Steve had taken his place at the table he found himself sitting opposite a boy whom he judged to be about his own age. This boy, however, was taller and much more rugged looking than was Steve. The latter saw the lad eyeing him inquiringly. "What's your name, boy?" finally demanded the larger of the two, pointing a spoon at Steve. "Stephen Rush." "Rush?" "Yes." "That's a funny name. Do you hear that, fellows?" "I do not see anything so very funny about it," replied Steve, his face flushing ever so little. "What is your name?" "Mine? I'm Bob Jarvis. But, judging from your name, you must be one of those fellows who is always in a hurry. Does your mamma know you're here?" "She does," answered Steve gravely. "Is she a Rusher, too?" "Her name is Rush, if that is what you mean." "Well, what do you think of that? His mother's Rush and she's a Rusher, too. That must be a pretty lively family," scoffed Jarvis. "Why, I'll bet----" "You will please leave my mother's name out of your talk," commanded Steve quietly, directing a level gaze at Jarvis. "Touchy, eh? Do you hear that, fellows?" If the miners did hear they were much too busy with their suppers to give the matter much attention. "Little Miss Hurry-up is going to get in a huff. But never mind, Rusher, I guess you're right at that. I had a mother once myself, but that don't stop me from saying whatever I want to you." "Say what you wish to, so long as you confine your talk to myself," replied Steve. "What you say about me doesn't matter much, anyway. For that matter, I do not think your remarks are of very great consequence, whatever subject you may be discussing." "What's that?" "I think you heard what I said." "What do you mean, young fellow?" "If you don't understand, I shall try to make it plainer. I mean to say that you act like a rowdy. I shouldn't be surprised if you are one." Bob Jarvis half rose from his chair. The smile had left his face, giving place to an angry scowl. "So, you--you are looking for fight, eh?" he demanded, thrusting his chin forward belligerently. "No, sir; I am not." Steve did not even look up as he made the reply, but calmly proceeded with his supper. "Well, you've got to fight, whether you are looking for it or not. I'll show you that you can't hand out a line of talk like that to Bob Jarvis," growled the larger boy, starting for the head of the table, around which he would have to go to reach Steve. "Stow your scrapping and give us a chance to eat our suppers," growled one of the miners.