Omaha daily bee., 1902-11-09

SO on until the ladie is empty OF all but
Stag. Then it goes, splitting fire across the
pit again. to await the charge from the
next converter. The mould train rattles
away to the rolling mill.
Filling the Converters.
You mount a grimy staircase to a gallery
overhanging the pit and watch the filling Of
a fresh converter. This is its first charge
today and it first must be heated by a fire
Of coke, else even its refractory canister
lining would not stand the sudden on
slaught OF white-hot metal. 1t turns up
side down to discharge the burned out coke
and then gets passively on its side to re-
ceive it's dose from the blast furnace. 1t lies
On it's side during the operation because, as
you easily can see from the gallery, its
bottom is speckled all over with holes.
Those admit the blast. The melted metal
lies in the hollow OF it's rounded side below
the level OF the outermost row of openings.
When 1t is turned upright there is no fear
lest the fluid iron run out for as the con-
verter rises the hot blast is turned on and
through each of the holes goes rushing a
nightly scorching wind, lifting the mass Of
metal and dancing it about until it seethes
to the very mouth Of the big converter.
At first the spectacle is a tame one, a
mere spouting OF sparks. A little silicon
is burning. But as the silicon becomes ex-
hausted the oxygen blast lays hold upon
the carbon and a long fierce fame appears,
growing in strength until, as before, the
flame suddenly drops. Then, since a spe-
cifc amount Of carbon is wanted in steel,
the charge is .ecarburized by the addition
OF a dose OF cpielgeleisen.
All this spectacular display is the result
of an inspired guess. Sir Henry Bessemer
was neither a practical ironmaster nor an
expert theoretical chemist. His daring
scheme Of rendering iron malleable by a
powerful air blast blown throughout the
charge YVES at first so variable in results as
to court predictions Of ultimate failure.
But capped by Mushet's tonic of ferroman-
ganese. 1t has revolutionized modern met
allurgy.
Rolling the IngOts.
Now. TO follow that train Of ingot molds
across the yards to the blooming mills. No
sooner arrived there than the metal that
you saw poured like fiery molasses is set
and cool enough to leave the molds, which
are plucked of the shrunken ingots, leav-
ing those rectangles Of fire standing on the
iron cars. Subject one of those crimson
blocks to the pressure Of the rolls and 1t
HOulu luSNdnNlg 81 ~ piONSos LAhO - DNAAy
baked muffin. IL is pasty at the heart. 1t
must be allowed to crystalize before 1t is
rolled.
But this does not mean that It is al
lowed to cool. A crane seizes the glowing
thing and hurries 1t toward a pit, where
leaping tongues OF flame and a fierce roar
ing proclaim a buried fire. Somewhere in
the dark a lever is touched; sliding doors
glide apart and a sheet OF flame screeches
up from the gas pit. Consigned to this bed
OF flame, the ingot is closed in by the iron
doors and semi-darknes falls upon the part
Of the mill.
But see, here is an ingot bound for the
rolls. Lowered to the roll table. the scarlet
slab lie gripped and guided toward the
straight and narrow way. Before the rolls
are reached 1t must have it's upper end
nipped of, for the top Of every ingot is, in
shop dialect, rotten" So here comes a
screaming circular saw, biting its way
through the white. hot slab and sending out
a great pinwheel Of kissing sparks. Spit
ting and %groaning. the glowing mass is
caught by the rolls, forced and squeezed
! and pinehed through, and THAT a moment