Part 14 (1/2)

”Only,” said the explorer, dryly, ”because there are several hundred men killed in just that way every year--and most of them have families.

Don't you put guards around any of your belts in this mill, either?”

Again that puzzled look in the engineer's eyes. ”No, not here,” he answered slowly. ”There was some talk about putting them on, but nothing came of it. It wouldn't be a bad idea, either; every now and then some poor fellow loses a hand or an arm. Last spring a new man from out in the yards was walking through here, and the wind blew his sleeve too near the belt. It yanked him clear in between the belt and pulley--smashed him up so he didn't live more'n a couple of hours. That certainly was hard luck.”

”Luck!” snorted Uncle Jack, when the three were out of hearing. ”A moving belt is almost as dangerous as a can of gunpowder! Yet these men call it luck when it takes off an arm or snuffs out a life. It's disgusting.”

All through the plant they found the same state of affairs--careless men, unguarded machinery, guesswork everywhere. In the machine shop they found men and boys cleaning machines that were running at top speed. Any one could see how easily the rags and soft cotton waste they were using could catch in the moving parts and draw a hand or an arm into the flying wheels.

”I noticed in the accident reports of one single state,” Uncle Jack told Betty, ”that more than five hundred people were hurt in that very way, by cleaning machines that were moving. Half of them lost fingers and many lost their hands or arms. No sensible workman, these days, treats his machine as anything but downright dangerous as long as it's running.”

The buzz saws fascinated the twins. They felt as if they could stand all day long and listen to the drone of the saw as it ate its way into the clean white boards, snarling like an angry dog when its teeth struck a knot in the wood. There were a good many of these saws in the big, long room; now and then they would get to singing together like a music cla.s.s at school and then they would drop out of tune again.

”Not a saw guard in the place,” shouted Bob in Uncle Jack's ear, for the saws drowned out his ordinary tone.

But Uncle Jack's keen eyes had already caught sight of some metal guards hung up on the wall here and there. ”They've got them,” he corrected, ”but they are not making any use of them.” He stepped up to one of the saws and spoke to the man who was running it. ”Why don't you keep the guard on your saw?”

”Aw, those things are a nuisance,” said the man. ”Yes, we're supposed to keep 'em on, but they'd be in the way--we couldn't get the work out so fast with them.”

”That's queer,” said Uncle Jack. ”In a good many mills like this they've found that a man using a good saw guard turns out more work than ever--because he's so much more free in using his hands, I suppose.”

The man grunted, but did not answer. On their way to the door, the Safety Scouts spied, clear back in one corner, a man who really did have his saw guard in use. ”And a rattling lot of work he's turning out, too,” said Bob, after the three had watched him a while from a distance.

The neat metal guard came clear down over the murderous saw teeth, so that no matter how much his fingers happened to be in the way, they were safe.

”Let's ask him why he uses his saw guard when the others won't,” said Uncle Jack. He stepped nearer the silent workman and then--he saw the reason. Turning to Bob and Betty, he tapped his left hand with his right and jerked his head toward the man beside the saw. The twins walked around to where they could get a look at the workman's left hand. Then they understood. There was nothing left of the fingers but the stub of one, and the thumb!

”Easy enough to see why that one man was using his saw guard, eh?” said Uncle Jack to Sure Pop that night.

”Nothing easier,” said the little Colonel. ”A burnt child dreads the fire, you know. Not much Safety First idea noticeable in that mill, was there?”

”Colonel, that's just what I don't understand. I thought you said yesterday your Safety Scouts had done good work among the wood-working mills, but if that's a sample--”

”It isn't,” was the quiet answer. ”Do you happen to know who's the biggest stockholder in that mill?”

Uncle Jack stared. ”Surely not--not Bruce?”

”You've guessed it.”

Uncle Jack gave a long, low whistle of surprise. ”But I had no idea he owned wood-working mills too.”

”This is the only one. It's out of his line, I'll admit--but it goes to show his bitter prejudice against the Safety First movement, doesn't it?

He'll come around by and by, never fear. All in good time, my friend, all in good time.”

[Ill.u.s.tration]

ADVENTURE NUMBER SEVENTEEN