Iron County register. [volume] (Ironton, Iron County, Mo.) 1867-1965, 1904-06-02

None of that white-hot liquid stream
must escape and strike anything damp
or else
Seton Holder, sharply outlined
against the birding glare of the moiten
steel, smiles grimly a the sparks fall
in brilliant showers round him, and lit
tie thinks that at the moment he forms
a vivid human target. For Jack Simp-
son, black hatred in his heart, is glanc-
ing along the barrel of his revolver,
with his finger trembling on the trig-
ger and his soul trembling on the verge
of that awful precipice, murder! An
almost uncomfortable passion to end
things then and there takes possession
Of him. Still, better to wait a little
while and then-the top entrance, and
face to face in his office. The draw
ings are there. Who can guess what
card Holder will play when faced with
a climax? Best to come armed, any,
way. And If the pistol has to be used,
why, what a feeble spark it will be
amidst all this roar and flame and
changing stir. How terrified Jess would
be if All, he will soon be away
now.
The furnaces are empty and the
bucket, containing many tons OF
molten steel, is being carried over to
the mold. Seton Holder stands upon
an iron box about three feet from the
ground level, and is ready to give the
final order to remove the bucket-plug.
Then suddenly he looks up at the
chains above end shouts with horror.
One of the side pivots is bending,
breaking. There is a wild shout from
the men as they rush for the door, and
that mighty cauldron of kissing, seeth-
ing steel turns over and runs like a
fiery lake on the floor. Swift as some
bursting dam it darts its fiery way, fed
deeper by the swinging bucket. Seton
Holder, looking which way to escape,
pauses a moment too long. Like a
flash the metal surrounds the mold he
is On and he stands, as 1t were, on an
iron island amid a lake of white-hot
running steel. Above the noise and
confusion he hears some one scream
ing: Run for your lives"
Run? Yes, but how can he cross this
burning moat? The heat is terrific.
He sees the steel forcing a channel
down to number five pit, which o n
tains water. If it reaches there-the
thought sets him %shuddering. Have
they all escaped but him? The heat
is %scorcning, suifocating, and it will
take houTs for this mass of steel to
cool and set-hours; why, long before
that he will be literally baked alive.
Will one of them come to a w him?
No, no; they will not risk the explosion
until it is too late. The growing fear
of a horrible death overwhelms him
and he can with terror. Then
some one dashes through the door,
beats his way through the hands that
try to stop him, runs nimbly up the
foot-ladder and along the wide baulks
that hold the rails for the crane
Look, he is clinging now to the
chain. Lower" he shouts, and lower
he comes; down, down, until he swings
as close to that terrible liquid bed as
the men he is trying to save "For-
ward!" he roars, and there is the click
Of levers, the hiss of steam, and the
rattle of the ponderous crane. Hold"
he screams, as he lurches forward,
seiZes Holder, and clings to him with
wonderful strength. For a moment it
seems as though both must slip and
crash to their doom, and then, tightly
clasped together, rescuer and rescued
are swung clear of the burning lake
and on into safety. And the last thing
Seton Holder notes ere he sinks into
Inconsistencies is a confused babel ot
voices, and above them all ONE one
loudly clamoring for cheers for brave
Jack Simpson.
For a week Jack Simpson lay de,
lirious-a week of great anxiety and
terrible tension tO his wife. Over and