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perch, that shaft was closed until it checked safe. Sometimes the overseer took his safety lamp and held it high over his head. He could tell if the level of the gas was dangerous by the colour of the halo of light which formed above the flame.
    Today, both boys were told their workplaces were safe.
    â€œNow, we’ll get on the next rake. You know — the string of cars that run on rails. It’ll take us down the slope. When we get to your landing, I’ll tell ya. You’ll have to walk from there,” said Simon.
    Willie jumped into a box car when the rake ground to a stop. He crouched down between men who were jammed together so tightly, Willie could hardly breathe. Grind. Rattle. Roar. The noise was deafening in the confined space. Willie made himself as small as he could and shut his eyes.
    Several times the rake ground to a halt, and men got off. Finally, it was Willie’s turn.
    â€œJump off! Level Five!” Simon shouted in his ear.
    Willie jumped, and then looked about him in the semi-darkness. Several lanterns hung on nails driven into wooden posts. Behind them, walls of black coal glittered.
    â€œCome on,” said Simon. “I’ll take ya, but we gotta hurry. The other boys have to wait till we get there for our shifts.”
    He started off at a half-trot, stooping slightly to avoid hitting his head on the low ceiling with its protruding, jagged pieces of rock. Willie followed. Being small, he didn’t have to duck under low-hanging girders. Underfoot, it was rough going. Thick dust choked his throat in some places. In others, he had to wade through puddles of black water. It was like walking along a narrow railway track. The rails were for boxes of coal, hauled by horses. Every once in a while, Willie could see a moving light in the distance. Then Simon would stop and press his body against the wall to make way for a horse and driver bringing out a load of coal. Finally, they came to a thick wooden door.
    â€œYou’re late,” said a boy’s voice.
    Simon said, “This here is Willie Maclean.”
    â€œRight ’nough. You git here earlier tomorrow,” said the other boy, as he picked up his piece-can and left.
    Simon kept on giving instructions. “You sit on the headway, see? On the high side of the trap. See that rope? It’s a pulley and there’s a weight on the end. Pull on the rope to open the door. Hang on, and when the team’s safe through, let go. It’ll shut itself. Think you can remember that?”
    Willie was tired of Simon’s silly directions. “I know all that,” he said, impatiently.
    Simon’s voice changed. “Oh, you know everything, don’t you? You stuck-up know-it-all,” he sneered.
    â€œWell, anyway, thanks for bringing me here,” said Willie.
    Simon picked up a handful of dirt and flung it in Willie’s face. By the time Willie had rubbed the dirt out of his eyes, Simon was gone. He was alone in the eerie dark, lighted only by the tiny flame from his lamp. He wished he hadn’t said anything to make Simon mad.
    Somewhere, he could hear water dripping. He knew all mines would flood if water wasn’t constantly pumped out. He remembered he was actually sitting under the Atlantic Ocean. This was called the “Ocean Deeps” colliery. How could the layers of rock and earth above him support an ocean of water?
    Very shortly, he heard the distant clop, clop of horses’ hooves and then the creaking wheels of an approaching box. How soon should he open the door? Better open it now, and be sure.
    At first, all he could see was a tiny, bobbing light and then, gradually, the shape of a white horse. Over its head it wore a cap and a sort of mask of heavy, decorated leather which fitted between its ears and down over its nose. Around its neck was a heavy, double horse collar, and to this were attached chains which fitted over the short, wooden shafts of the cart. Perched on top