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Show rrsnrrirrTierjrrrTir-irrTirsrrDCratrcrcr ,,,. : IUUUUUUUUUUI ll il ii ii 11 i ' e MILLION men will arise to tell you that this story isn't so. The philosophy of supposedly inanimate objects preaches that they have no sense o humor or drama nothing except & natural and innate perversity, per-versity, which, if It leads anywhere, brings on anti-climaxes Instead of the reflated and prepared "punches" which tory writers shoot at when they aim double-barreled statements. But steel differs from all other Invertebrates. In-vertebrates. Steel has & lot of class. It has temper and it strikes fire and It clanks and It cuts and It stabs. It jumps back nastily when you try to bend It out of Its predestined shape. It Is the Atlas of the modern globe. It has made paupers pau-pers millionaires and it has made millionaires mil-lionaires kings. It has devastated continents. conti-nents. It has massacred hosts, It has floated on the oceans breasts and In all, steel is a hard character. Wherever there is a steel mill the Is a steel community. Making steel is not like growing potatoes or like sweatshop-ping sweatshop-ping knee pants. One must be born a hteelmaker, or at least a Bohunk, to have a finger in the industry. Made to order cities have been constructed con-structed of steel, for steel, where the steel companies own the ground and the streets and the houses and the schools; whore children are born of steelmakers 'to be steelmakers; where the reljgion is the gospel of steel. . In the titanic plants the comedies and mysteries and tragedies of life spin out their varl-colored beads on threads of steel. The lives the numbered workers live and the deaths they perish and the loves they worship and the murders that ' highlight their hates and the woes they endure and .the dangers that they face square Into the red pits of bubbling, seething hell no man wili ever tell, for no one man knows. There are no identities within the steel mill. The work is so enormous that any individual is lost. Like flies or fleas they crawl, they jump, they stretch, thry buzz about, each with his part to do eacn number welding Into the millions' mil-lions' tctal, welding into the, steel, mingling in the crucible his sweat and his fears and his blood, and, too often, -- his flesh and his bones and his hair and V, hide and finger nails. One of these Insects was Sascha Zuk-otynsfe). Zuk-otynsfe). a patriarchal steel puddler who had emigrated to this land of golden opportunity op-portunity ind brazen opportunism from somowhere inthe czar's hinterlands. He was a robust man then, a widower of middle age, powerful of frame, bearded like a Christian martyr, with biceps of a gJant and thighs of a stallion. e TREY numbered him and lost him In the steel plant. Twice a month he . got his wages good wages as wages go and most of these he saved and stored. In a few years he was enabled to send back for his four daughters and the pride of his life, his brawny son Jan, whose tawny upper lip was just beginning begin-ning to sprout the fuzz of adolescence. For years he maintained his Ave un-mothered un-mothered children, sending them to ' school, caring for them, lie sometimes hoped that his Jan would never be a number. But the boy himself routed that f'.imsy dream for he was a steelmaker's " son among steelmakers sons, and the little lit-tle pyrites got Into his veins and he longed to follow his father's trade. So, at the age of 20 or so, Zukotynski goi Jan a job in the foundry. The lad was husky and willing, his schooling had made him more Intelligent than most of those about him, and he progressed a bit. until he, too, was a puddler at $S a day, with assurances of still better pay a; he advanced in seniority. His father was, by then, one of the veteran puddlers. He had a spot right over the great vat, the cauldron of liquid ' steel which murmured and boiled like the starchy mass in a washtub, just as soft, a hundred times hotter. He would stand on a little gangplank that ran from the edge of the thousand-ton tank of molten steel to a scaffolding, and dip and stir and ladle with a long-handled dipper. It was a perilous footing and a pro ' : yymW Afry &yys: Vyy&- 1 - M fmww7 $&iyy,Y&yy .- I jWrf Affir'f ffMJ'' W y ' ' a sort of attack. And Zuk- r yUJyA VSyfn: he cried. .mlendent turned back to his papers... yW ' S r ? Wf'hi?' y ZiaHd hi3 He was referred to th9 CIalma depart- f Jftlinp i y bludgeon. ment But he Insisted that he must see V vWV '1 Wilson, and, at last, got in. ' . f f ,,My cllent' Zukot?"lsld'" sa'a the .'' lawyer, "demands that he be given the carious job. And its re-ward was com-mensurately com-mensurately handsome. ' The father in time felt the first symptoms symp-toms of age creeping down his tendons. ten-dons. Fear, a stranger that had never visited him during the hundreds of hours he had spent upon the suicidal bit of plank, began to bite into his blood. Once his eyes saw red, then stopped seeing see-ing at all, and he staggered and reeled, and only with a concentration of everything every-thing he had In that mighty physical system did he barely pull himself together to-gether and save a fall so hopelessly fatal that no human power could help him if he lost his balance and shot down into the liquid steel. That was his cue. Next day Zukotynski Zukotyn-ski quit his job. He had some money saved, Jan was earning good wages, two of the girls were working downtown he would live out his yearB in peace and repose, re-pose, watching his youngsters grow up. It waa a hard day, that first day of loafing. But he managed to fuss and fret It through. And then he saw Jan swinging up the cinder way to the front steps, and his big heart bounded in its joy over so sturdy and so good a son. Jan crossed the room; radiant. f FATHER," said he, "what do you think? I'm raised to $10 a day." His father put his hand on his shoulder shoul-der and purred. "And where do you think they put i me?" Zukotynski looked quickly, a sudden and a deadly ague came T.er him. "N-not t-to " "Sure. To ya"r ' place on the gangplank. gang-plank. It's gr "My Geo.!" exclaimed the father. "Wb dad. Tou worked there for yea and years. Nothing ever happened '.tothing will happen to me, either." ' "No, no," mumbled the old man. "I couldn't stand it. I couldn't be here all ; (lay thinking of you bending over the pit of death. No." The boy laughed it off, slapped the old V man on the shoulder and rushed him to 1 the supper table, saying he had an ap-F ap-F petite like a bear. Then the girls came in and the father smiled again. But nest day Zu&otynsXi, after h!a 4 eon had gone to his work, visited' the superintendent of the 3teel plant. "Mr. Wilson," said he, "I served your company faithfully for many years. My boy, against my wishes, followed my trade. 1 left it because it meant death sooner or later I cheated it longer than I had a right to, myself. And now they have put him inmy place In my spot on the little gangplank. Won't you please put him somewhere else anywhere any-where else than there, so that I can spend my old days in peace?" The superintendent smiled. It waa a emlle meant to be kindly. "I'm surprised at you," he said. "You an old-timer, being afraid. It's only be- cause you're getting old. But the boy is young. He has steady nerves. Some one must stand on that gangplank. He is the safest man in the plant. Now you let him alone and don't you worry." And to all that the aging ex-puddler could advance, the superintendent, a great man in his eyes, answered him with pleasantries and with genial, friendly friend-ly refusals of hl3 wish. Less than half satisfied, with hUjiftj shaking ominously, ZukoV7iskl went home. He began to lcw moody after that. Once he m' "Wilson on the street, flagged him ad renewed his petition. The superintendent was busy, so this time ha even sloughed the courtesies. .-.'Oh, behave," said he. "The boy's all right." "But if anything should happen ' "Nothing- is going to happen," said Wilson sharply, and walked away. p) UT it did happen! An excited Hun, stumbling in his haste, oame crunching up the cinders on flying, hurtling feet toward the door. Zukotynski heard him, looked; saw him, swooned. He anticipated the message. The pot of molten steel gurgled and boiled. But in It was the body of Jan Zukotynski, the "safest man In the plant." Tlpy restored the old man to consciousness. con-sciousness. As in a daze he picked up his heavy stick and started, staggering but purposeful, to the plant. He marched to the anteroom outside the superintendent's superin-tendent's qQXqq. T y ' t "Murderer he cried. And he raised his bludgeon. "He's busy now," said the man at the door. "Let me in," cried Zukotynski, and he started. The man intercepted him at the gate. The puddler struck him down with a sweep of his staff, threw open the door and strode In upon the superintendent "Murderer!" he cried. And he raised his bludgeon. But the frightened superintendent had pushed a button when he heard the melee outside, and two private police rushed In just ' then, seized the frantic man by the arms and were dragging him backward to the door. As he fought and went, the old man volleyed curses upon the head of Wilson, Wil-son, Bui jsurjcrlntendents don't mind curses-they don't even push buttons against that sort of attack. And Zuk-otynski's Zuk-otynski's anathemas; were still echoing when the door was shut and the superintendent super-intendent turned back to his papers. . . .. Next day a lawyer visited the office. He was referred to the claims department depart-ment But he Insisted that he must sea Wilson, and, at last, got in. "My client, Zukotynski," said the lawyer, "demands that he be given the remains of his son for Christian burial." Wilson scratched his head. He almost smiled. "He's in the steel by now, boiled Into a thousand tons of It. What do you want me to do?" The lawyer looked puzzled, then said he'd consult his client again and telephone. tele-phone. An hour later he called: "He wants the steel he wants enough of it, containing the bones of his son, to hold a service over and to Inter." Wilson cogitated a moment. "It's a new idea," said he. "Now, how much do you think he's entitled to? The weight of his son In steel, or the size of him? I don't want to be fussy, and, in a sad case like this, the company doesn't wish to appear stingy about a i di tj sLh Ch a Hi S Ci a little steel. Which would you Bay?" Lawyers are not softies. But this one was too shocked to answer. Next day a sheriff served a replevin on the company for the body of Jan Zukotynski, and he came away with a block of ateel weighing weigh-ing ISO pounds. The old man wept over It, kissed It, embraced it. A priest read a prayer over it, and It waa lowered In consecrated conse-crated ground. Dressed In his black clothes, the old g man walked back to is home on the V arm of his oldest daughter. 't" "In the steel," he muttered. "In the steel his heart and his body: And they'll cut It np and sell It." And he waa the master steelmaker again. "It won't be any good," he muttered. "It won't be steel. t can't be right 100 tons of steel and ISO pounds of human. Steel is a fine composition. A dustspeck can ruin a girder." Next day, this time In peace and with pledges of no attempt at violence, Zukotynski Zuk-otynski called again on Wilson. He 1 waited hours before he could see him, then held him outside the door. "Don't sell the steel that was In that vat," he pleaded. Wilson looked at him curiously. A hundred tons of steel Is worth something. "I I'm sorry," said he, "but I couldn't sort It out now, anyway. It's been cut Into rails. Why, part of It has been shipped sent out West." "Oh, It's too terrible," moaned Zukotynski. Zuk-otynski. "Rails! It Isn't good steel. It Isn't saft steel. It " But Wilson petulantly walked away. A TEAR later, Wilson, now president of the company, was riding over a western mountain in his private car. T- There came a sudden rip, then a 4 straining and an ugly snap the car M lurched, danced, stood on two wheels, tried to save lta equilibrium and over it went, just as Jan Zukotynski had gone over when no power could save him from the pit of steel-Are; over it went, over and over. At the bottom of the ravine they found ' the palatial car crushed like a match- I box under the heel of a regiment. And in the ruins, torn and dead, lay Wilson. There was a great hullabaloo, and ex- I I i Dressed in his black clothes, the old man tb lffiw M l'! A walked back to his home on the arm of his v . oldest daughter. ) oW tt '" Dressed in his black clothes, the old man walked back to his home on the arm of his oldest daughter. 1 1 perts were sent to find out what had caused the wreck. They looked and pried. "A rail spread," they found. "Imperfect "Imper-fect steel steel from Wilson's own plant, ! too." Copyright, 1916, by J. Kecleyl Hotel Clerk Tou told me you had Pfty-three pieces of baggage. What are th.ey? A. M. Sporty Guest A deck of cards and a razor. i i |