"Rush, get in there. It's cool enough now. Look here, you," he added, addressing Jarvis, surveying the lad from head to feet as if trying to decide upon the most vulnerable part of the young man's anatomy for an attack. "I'm looking. What's the answer?" retorted Jarvis, gazing into the eyes of Kalinski. "There ain't room for two such lummoxes as you in that pit now. You take the next one on number eight furnace." "Is it as hot as this?" "Hotter." "Then I guess I will wait until it cools off," answered Bob, sitting down again. Watski's face showed a dull red under the cinder soot. "You get up and go to work, unless you want to lose your whole week's wages. What do you think this is--a baby hospital?" "I didn't know but it might be, seeing you live here," retorted Jarvis, taking his time at getting up, but keeping a weather eye on Kalinski, who had a habit of suddenly forgetting himself, as Jarvis already had discovered. "Shall I cool the pit off?" "How?" "With the hose." The pit boss grinned. "Think you can do it?" "Of course I can do it. It doesn't take any great amount of skill or intelligence to handle an inch hose, does it?" "Use it if you want to, but remember I warned you." "Against what?" demanded Bob, eyeing the boss half suspiciously. "Against using the water." "Pshaw!" Jarvis went over to the tap, turning on a full stream of water. When he straightened up he saw that Kalinski was walking rapidly away, so rapidly, in fact, as to be almost on a run. Bob gazed after him inquiringly. "I wonder what ails that Indian?" muttered the lad. "He seems to be in a great hurry about something." Bob's attention was attracted to the water, which was now spurting from the nozzle of the hose, the stream shooting right over where Steve was at work, sending a shower of fine spray down on him. "Hey, what are you doing up there?" he shouted. "Watering the plants," scoffed Jarvis. "You just turn that hose the other way unless you are looking for trouble. Why don't you get to work?" "Going to. I am at work already." "Where is Kalinski?" "He was sprinting down the shop the last I saw of him. He seemed to be in a mighty big hurry about something." Bob dragged the hose over to the pit behind open-hearth number eight. Then he began playing the stream on the cinders full force. He did not know that this was a very dangerous proceeding. No one had told him, and the pit boss had merely intimated it when he said, "Remember, I warned you." "This is fine," grinned the boy. "I could do this all day and not get a stitch in my back. Guess I will wet my legs." He turned the hose on his blistered legs, the water feeling cool and refreshing, for the lad's burns were becoming more and more painful as the dust from the mill settled into them.