Steve was near the bottom of number seven pit with cinders and slag raining down on him in a perfect deluge. The lad instinctively pulled his cap visor down over his eyes to keep the stuff from getting into his eyes or burning his face. He had no idea what had happened, beyond the fact that there had been some sort of explosion. With quick presence of mind he grabbed up the plank, standing it against the side of the pit and began to climb. Quick as he was, he was not quick enough to get clear of the shower. It enveloped him; it choked and half smothered him as he fought manfully to gain the top of the pit. "It's gripping me," thought the lad. "I'll have a time getting out of this now." The stuff was up to his knees, Rush meantime kicking out vigorously, pulling himself up inch by inch by sheer strength of arms and hands. Had he not been such a muscular lad he would have been at the bottom of the pit at that moment, probably dead. The cinders and slag gained the boy's waist. He was nearing the top, but now he could make little or no impression. He shouted for help, but in the confusion none heard his call. Steve kept struggling. He would never give up as long as there was a single breath left in him. Finally, however, he found that he was making absolutely no progress. The grip of the cinder and slag was getting tighter and tighter as the stuff was packed about him. Suddenly through the pall of smoke and dirt a human face appeared, peering over into the pit. There was a bandage about the head of the man who was looking down into number seven. "Is that you, Rush?" called a familiar voice. "Ye-yes," answered the lad, scarcely above a whisper, for he was fast giving out. "Who--who are you? Help--help me out. I'm fa-fast and I--I'm burning u----" "This is Ignatz Brodsky. Sure, I help you. Reach up your hands. You must make hurry. We both get buried alive in the hot stuff." Steve stretched up his arms to the boy Ignatz, who had that morning come out of the hospital and gone to work in the mill where he was employed on a furnace a short distance down the line from where the Iron Boys worked. Ignatz knew whose pit had blown up. He knew that Steve was in an adjoining one, because from where he was shoveling he had seen Rush go down into the cinder hole a little while before the explosion occurred. As for Bob Jarvis, he had not been seen since the black column had lifted him from the floor. Young Brodsky grasped the outstretched hands and began tugging with all his might. All his efforts were unavailing. Steve was being buried deeper and deeper every second. "Hang on--I get somebody!" exclaimed Ignatz, darting away through the black cloud. Kalinski, now running here and there, apparently very much upset over the disaster, was the first man the Pole met. "Come quick!" he demanded, breathing hard. "What do you want?" snarled Watski. "The pit! There's a man in there and he can't get out!" "Who is it?"