HEY stood on the dock of a river where great ships leave their burden of iron ore.
“There she comes!” exclaimed Mr. Prescott, pointing to a freighter that was slowly drawing near.
“No giants in sight yet,” said Billy.
“It’s your eyes that are not seeing,” returned Mr. Prescott. “That boat herself is a giantess. Watch.”
Hardly had the great boat been made fast to her moorings before, in some mysterious way, the hold of the ship opened wide from stem to stern.
Then somebody touched a lever somewhere, and over the hold swung a row of buckets that, opening like two hands, grabbed into the ore, and seizing tons of it, swung back to the dock. A touch of another lever unloaded it into huge storage bins.
“Billy Bradford,” said Mr. Prescott, “weren’t those the hands of a giant?”
“Sure, sir,” answered Billy, who stood staring in wonder.
“That ore,” said Mr. Prescott, “came from a surface mine up in the pine woods of Lake Superior, a thousand miles away.
“Perhaps, gentlemen, you may like to know that the American supremacy in iron is largely due to those open pit mines up in Minnesota.
“Much of the ore in that region is so near the surface that a steam shovel can easily strip off the ‘overburden’ of the soil and the roots of pine trees.
“When that was done, giant hands seized that ore, lifted it up, and loaded it into bins, high up on the bluffs.
“Then a man, not a giant, touched a treadle, and another kind of giant, named ‘gravity,’ made the ore run from the bottom of the car into a bin.
“Chutes from the ore bin ran into the hold of the steamer, and almost before she had been tied to the dock she was ready to come down here.
“Giants or not, Billy Bradford?”
“Iron giants,” answered Billy.
“Rather different, Mr. Bradford,” said Dr. Crandon, “from fishing ore with tongs.”
“We’ve moved along a great way since that time,” said John Bradford, “and most of our progress has been due to iron.”
“Giants don’t do all the work even now,” said Mr. Prescott. “They make short work of iron mountains and surface deposits, but most of them are too large to work underground; though we mustn’t forget that Giant Electricity works down there with the men.
“Giant Gravity helps too, for, when they work below the deposit, he caves the ore down. Of course some ores are so hard that they can’t be caved, so there is still some mining for the men to do.”
“Was there,” asked Billy, trying to speak in a sort of offhand way, “an iron mountain where this iron came from?”
“There are some,” answered Mr. Prescott, “up in that region.”
Billy had been paying very close attention to what Mr. Prescott had been saying. There was something that he wanted especially to find out. He felt very sure, now, that he was hearing about an iron mountain that he had heard about once before.
He felt very sure, but he wouldn’t ask any more questions, because that was the secret that he had with Thomas Murphy.
The others started for the car. But Billy stood a moment longer to look at the giant hands that, having finished their work, were hanging idly in the air. The hold of the ship, emptied of its burden, was already beginning to close.
“Beginning to believe in giants, aren’t you?” said Mr. Prescott, as Billy stepped into the car.
“The next giant will be a hungry fellow, and he is very, very tall; so he eats a great deal.”
“An iron-eater, is he?” queried Dr. Crandon.
“We ourselves will have something to eat before we visit him,” said Mr. Prescott, ordering Joseph to drive back to the hotel.
“Mr. Prescott,” said Dr. Crandon, as they sat at table, “is iron ever found in a pure state, like gold, for instance?”
“It is practically never found in a pure state,” answered Mr. Prescott, “except the meteoric iron, ‘the stone of heaven.’”
Billy looked at him questioningly.
“That was rather technical, wasn’t it, Billy? You see, I was talking to a technical man. Just between you and me, meteoric iron comes down from the sky, from what we call shooting stars. Sometimes large pieces are found. I suppose that much of it falls into the sea. It is the purest iron that has ever been found.”
“What about magnetic iron?” asked Dr. Crandon. “Where does that come from?”
“At the present time,” answered Mr. Prescott, “most of it comes from Sweden and Norway. It makes the best kind of steel.
“Ages ago, the first was found in Magnesia,” said Mr. Prescott casting a quick glance around the table.
“The people there found certain hard, black stones which would attract to themselves bits of iron and steel. So they named them magnets, from Magnesia, the place where the stones were found,” finished Mr. Prescott, with another look around the table.
“It’s of no use, Prescott,” said Dr. Crandon, “you needn’t look at us. We don’t any of us know even where to look for Magnesia. Don’t suppose we could find it even if we had a map.”
“I presume you remember, Crandon,” said Mr. Prescott, “the place that boasted that ancient wonder of the world, the Temple of Diana.”
“Ephesus!” said Dr. Crandon, quickly. “I do happen to know that Ephesus is in Asia Minor.”
“Then,” said Mr. Prescott, still keeping his face very grave, “I should strongly advise your finding Ephesus first. That’s in the near neighborhood of Magnesia.”
“Thank you,” said Dr. Crandon gravely. “Though I did not know where magnetic iron came from, I do happen to know that it is sometimes called ‘lode-stone.’
“And I know, too, that Sir Isaac Newton—he’s the one, Billy, who ran down Giant Gravity—had a ring set with a lode-stone that could lift two hundred and fifty times its own weight.”
“And I know,” said Mr. Prescott, “that I am very grateful to Dr. Crandon for telling me about the new electro-magnet that I now have at the mill. I feel very much easier, now, about my workmen’s eyes.”
“Do you mean,” asked Billy, “that thing that you brought home that I thought was a new desk telephone?”
“It does resemble a telephone,” said Dr. Crandon, “only it has a tip instead of a mouthpiece. It’s a great thing for taking bits of steel out of eyes.”
“Isn’t there such a thing,” asked John Bradford, “as a magnetic separator?”
“Glad to hear from you once more, Bradford,” said Mr. Prescott, with a smile. “It has been some time since you have said anything.”
“I have been having too good a time,” said John Bradford, “to want to talk. I should like, now, to have you tell us about the separator.”
“It is an electro-magnetic drum. When the finely crushed ore is poured on it in a stream, the drum attracts the iron, while the earthy matter, which is non-magnetic, falls off by the action of gravity. The iron is carried on by the drum, until a brush arrangement sweeps it off into a truck.
“That is a case, Billy, where Giant Gravity and Giant Electro-magnet fight over the ore, and each gets away with a part of it.
“Perhaps I ought to explain to you that, when a bar of soft iron is put inside an insulated coil of copper wire and a current of electricity is passed through it, it becomes a powerful magnet. That is what we mean by an electro-magnet. The advantage of that is that it ceases to be a magnet when the current ceases, so it can be controlled. You will see some before I am through showing you giants.
“There is also an electric cleaner that collects the iron that is left in the corners of cars. Those devices save iron. Strange as it may seem, however, not all iron will respond to the magnetic cleaners.”
“Is there,” asked Dr. Crandon, “any danger that the iron in the world will be exhausted?”
“I hardly think so,” answered Mr. Prescott. “The available ores, in the single range that we were talking about this morning, run up into the trillions of metric tons.”
“I read something the other day,” said John Bradford, “about some iron that had been found in Sweden, up beyond the arctic circle.”
“That,” said Mr. Prescott, “is one of the most extensive deposits in the world. The countries of the western part of Europe draw upon that supply.
“It is very likely that we haven’t found all the iron yet, and even more likely that we shall find a way to make use of the poorer ores.
“By the way, Billy, there is one kind of iron called ‘iron pyrites.’ It looks so much like gold that it has deceived many a poor fellow into thinking that he had found gold. It well deserves the name ‘fool’s gold.’ It doesn’t even make good iron. I’ll show you some when we go home. Now we’ll go to see the iron-eater.”
Ten minutes later Billy exclaimed:
“He’s tall!”
“Not quite a hundred feet,” said Mr. Prescott.
“He’s black!” said Dr. Crandon.
“He roars!” added John Bradford.
“And,” said Mr. Prescott, “even if he could be moved, he’s rather too valuable for a circus manager to buy, for he cost a million dollars. I really think he’s the most fearful thing ever made by man. The Germans, though, did a great thing for iron when they evolved the blast furnace.”
“Makes our cupola,” said John Bradford, as they stopped before the tall iron stack, “look very small.”
“Ours,” said Mr. Prescott, “is only a dwarf, but he does something like the same work; only here they put in iron ore instead of pig iron. Blast furnaces make pig iron.”
“THE MOST FEARFUL THING EVER MADE”
“What diet,” asked Dr. Crandon, “do they give this giant?”
“You’re bound to think professionally, aren’t you, Crandon? He’s restricted to coke, iron ore, and limestone, but they feed him very often. They see, too, that he has plenty of hot air to breathe.
“The old problem used to be how to get heat enough to melt the ore. That was solved by a Scotchman, who originated the use of the hot blast.
“The gas produced by the furnace used to be wasted. Now they utilize it in the hot-blast stoves. That accounts for some of the huge pipes attached to the furnace. Come this way, and I’ll show you a stove.
“Here it is, almost as tall as the furnace itself. This giant, also, is encased in an armor of iron plates. If we could look inside, we should see that it is almost filled with open brick work that resembles a honeycomb.
“They send hot gas over the brick work till the stove is hot, then they shut off the gas and start the engine that blows in cold air. That, heated by the bricks, is forced into the furnace.
“One of those great pipes up there is where they draw off the slag. It is so much lighter than the iron that it rises to the top, like cream on milk.
“Down here they draw off the iron. Sometimes they keep it hot for the next process; sometimes it is made into pig iron.”
“What,” asked Dr. Crandon, “becomes of the slag?”
“That depends somewhat on the chemical composition of the slag. Some kinds are broken up to be used as foundation for roads; others are granulated by being run into water, and so made into cement. Over in Germany, where the ores are rich in phosphorus, they grind up the linings of the furnace to make phosphatic fertilizers for the farmers.”
“Then,” said Dr. Crandon, “the making of iron involves the use of chemistry, doesn’t it?”
“It certainly does,” answered Mr. Prescott; “from the chemical composition of ores to the finished product. We are learning a great deal just now from the chemists about steel alloys.
“I didn’t tell you that from the gas they sometimes save ammonia, tar, and oils, before it is fed to the hot-blast stoves.”
“By-products,” said Dr. Crandon, “seem to be a feature of modern industry.”
“It is high time,” said Mr. Prescott, “that waste should receive attention.”
“Before we leave this giant I must tell you that he already has a dangerous rival—listen, Billy, for it’s almost a David and Goliath story—in a little electric smelter. Some of them can be moved about like a portable sawmill.
“Up in Sweden, where the ores are among the purest in the world, they use electric smelters and make steel direct from the ore.”
“Any more giants?” asked Billy.
“You’ll think so,” answered Mr. Prescott, “before I am through with them; but we’ve seen enough for to-day. Next time I’ll show you giants that have done something more than to make iron, for they have really reduced the size of the world.”
“Whew!” exclaimed Dr. Crandon.
“Before that,” said Mr. Prescott, “I am going to introduce you to some pygmies.”
