Carefully, he put the money and the bobtail sheet into his piece-can, as all the men did, in order to keep it clean from the coal dust which blackened their hands and clothes.
Willie was one of the last to leave the office because he had visited Gem again before he went up on the rake. Outside he discovered a light snowfall had covered the ground, and a cold wind was blowing. Ahead he saw some strange lights bobbing around. There was a sound of distant shouting.
Hallowe’en! Pranksters would be abroad. He’d better hurry home.
He shivered and tried to run to keep himself warm, limping on his sore foot. When he came to the graveyard, he could see tombstones gleaming like pale ghosts in the wintry night.
It had almost stopped snowing, and he decided he could see the way well enough to take a shortcut through the cemetery. He whistled under his breath as he picked his way along the path.
A low moan came from behind one of the tombstones. He stopped and listened. Again he heard a moan, as if someone was in pain. He couldn’t be sure because of the sighing of the wind in the trees overhead.
“Who’s there?” he asked.
No one answered.
He started on again, his heart pounding. He wished he hadn’t taken the shortcut. Maybe he was imagining things, Then he saw something white floating between the trees and the tombstones.
He decided to go back, but when he turned to go he saw another ghostly form with a light. He stood still, too scared to move in either direction.
A violent push sent him sprawling to the ground. His piece-can was snatched from his hand. As he struggled to his feet, he heard someone laugh.
“Run for it, Smarty Pants!” a jeering voice shouted.
He knew that voice. Simon Ross!
He and his pals had stolen the piece-can, with all Willie’s money.
Chapter 8
When Willie reached the safety of his own back porch he stood for a moment in the dark, trying to gain control of himself. His whole body was trembling. He would have to tell his family he had lost his money and John’s piece-can.
Inside, all was quiet except for the soft drone of his grandmother’s voice. He opened the door.
Two pumpkin grinners sat on the table, their orange bodies and funny faces aglow with the light of the candles inside. They cast spooky shadows on the walls and ceilings. The air was scented with the exotic smell of the lighted pumpkins and something spicy Nellie was stirring in a pot on the stove. John was sitting with his injured leg propped up on a chair, and the two little girls were on the floor, snuggled up to their grandmother in her rocking chair. She was telling them a story....
Tap! Tap! The knock came again on the door. The eve was so wild and stormy no human being should have, been abroad. That burly Scotsman was afraid to open the door. But open it he did. He looked down. He saw nothing but a little wet and bedraggled brown hen.
“Let me in, for the love of God!” said the hen.
The dog by the fireplace gave a low growl. The hackles rose on its neck....
Grandmother’s story stopped as she saw Willie at the door. “Oh, here’s the man of the house come home with his first pay envelope.”
“No,” said Willie. “No, Grandma.” He wished his voice wouldn’t tremble as he spoke.
The whole family chorused in unison, “Why? What happened?”
“It was stolen,” said Willie. He bit his lip to keep from crying.
John grabbed his crutches and got up from his chair. “Stolen! Tell us what happened.”
Willie blurted out the story of the attack in the graveyard.
“It was Simon Ross. I know it was. I heard his laugh.”
John was furious. “Wait until I get this splint off my leg! I’ll make him be sorry.”
Willie threw himself down on a chair. “I worked all those days for nothin’! I ain’t got a cent!” he mourned.
Nellie helped him off with his dusty sweater and overalls and tried to comfort him.
“Maybe you haven’t got any actual money, Willie, but did you look at your bobtail sheet? Because you worked, the rent for this house is paid for — a dollar fifty for the month. Fifty cents for coal, fifteen cents for school, forty cents for the doctor, and ten cents for church. All those things....”
“Wait a minute!” John interrupted. “Pa and I worked the first part of the month. Did they give you our pay, too?”
Willie’s face brightened. “No. I forgot to ask.”
“We can collect that. There should be enough for flour and tea.”
“What about Willie’s new boots?” asked Maggie.
“Why don’t he charge them at the Company Store? Everybody else does,” said Sara.
“No,” said Grandma firmly. “Everybody does except us. We don’t charge. We make do without.”
Everyone was silent.
Then Nellie said, “Better get scrubbed, Willie. There’s pumpkin pie for your supper.”
The two little girls put their pigtailed heads against their grandmother’s knees.
“Please finish the story, Grandma,” begged Maggie.
“Oh, well, you know that story. I’ve told it to ye many a time,” said Grandma, in a tired voice. She needed her cup of tea.
“But we want to hear it again,” said Sara, and her grandmother sighed and continued.
The hen came in and warmed herself by the fire. As she preened her feathers she began to grow.
“Bigger and bigger and bigger....” the girls chanted with her.
“Yes!”
Bigger and bigger until she was as big as the farmer himself. He was very afraid. He opened the door to the wild storm.
“Get out!” he shouted to the big hen.
The hen scuttled out of the door. The dog sprang to its feet and took after her. The man could hear the dog barking and the hen squawking outside.
The next day the doctor was called to tend an old woman in the village who had been mauled by a dog.
“And that’s the end of the story.”
“Not really,” said Maggie.
“Because after that, everybody knew the old woman was a witch,” said Sara.
Her grandmother smiled and patted her rosy cheek. “That’s not in the story. Blow out your candles in your pumpkins. We can’t waste any more. Anyway, it’s time wee bairns were in bed.”
Maggie sighed. “This would have been the very happiest Hallowe’en in my life if it wasn’t for mean Simon Ross,” she said.
“I hate Simon! I hope John beats him to pieces,” said Sara, fiercely.
“All right now. We won’t say anything more about it,” said Nellie as Willie came out of the pantry, scrubbed and clean. “Don’t you worry. Everything will be all right.”
Willie sat down to eat. The pumpkin pie was delicious, but he knew everything wouldn’t be all right. Not until John was able to beat up Simon. He wished he was big enough and strong enough to do it himself, but he knew it would be ridiculous for him to try.
He had never hated anybody as much as he hated Simon Ross.
He managed to avoid him the rest of the week. For the next three days he continued to work with Ned and Sparky, but on Thursday he was told to go back to his trap. He was in despair. He thought he had failed the driver’s test, but he was afraid to ask Stubby. The stableman still let Willie give Gem her oats and have a visit with her each night.
On Sunday, Willie’s foot was so sore he couldn’t go to church. Nellie took Maggie and Sara to see their father in the hospital. They brought back the good news that he was much improved.
“He’ll be home for Christmas,” said Nellie, happily.
Willie was glad, but he had to ask, “Will he be able to work again?”
“Maybe not as a hand-pick miner, but he’l
l get a job above ground, eventually,” Nellie assured him.
Willie was quiet. What did she mean by “eventually”?
He was soaking his foot in a pan of hot water and creolin, the only disinfectant they had. It smelled strong and clean. John was trying to mend Willie’s worn-out boot by making an insole from an old piece of leather Sara had found discarded in a ditch.
Sara often found things in ditches. Sometimes they could be put to good use.
“But you’ll have to throw away that broken china cup. It’s no earthly good for anything. We have no room for trash,” said Grandma, looking up from her rocking chair.
“It’s so pretty! It has a pink rose in the corner,” Sara protested, holding it up to show her.
Grandma sniffed. She was not in a good mood. She did not approve of John working on Sunday, like a cobbler.
“‘Remember the Sabbath Day to keep it holy,’” she quoted from the Bible.
“It’s the only day I can do it. Willie has to wear the boots tomorrow,” said John.
Just then a knock sounded at the door.
“Maybe it’s Charley!” exclaimed Willie, jerking his foot out of the pan of disinfectant.
But it was not Charley.
At first, Willie didn’t recognize the man with his face freshly scrubbed and shaved. He had a short, straight nose, sparkling hazel eyes, and a wide smile. He pulled off his cap and bowed to Grandma.
As soon as he said, “Good day, Ma’am,” Willie knew who it was.
“It’s Ned! Ned Hall! Come in and meet my family.”
Ned nodded and smiled shyly at each one. He accepted the chair Nellie offered.
“I’ve come to bring you good news, Willie,” he said. He turned his cap around and around in his strong hands. “You are to go to the stable first thing in the morning. You are to take Gem into the new seam.”
Willie gave a loud whistle. He hopped all around the room on his good foot, uttering little squeaks of joy.
The girls giggled, but John asked anxiously, “Do you really think he can handle that horse?”
Ned nodded. “Yes. He’s got a way with her. Seems like he’s been around horses all his life.” He looked down at the floor, holding his cap between his knees. “He’ll get a rise in pay, too. I know you got trouble here.”
“I’ll be back to work in a month,” said John, proudly. He gave the children a warning look. They understood they were not to say anything about Willie being robbed of his pay.
“Won’t you stay for supper?” Nellie invited.
“Thank you, Miss,” said Ned.
Willie noticed he kept glancing at Nellie and she looked back at him under her eyelashes in a funny sort of way.
The little girls liked Ned. He fitted into the family as if they had always known him. Willie was so happy he couldn’t stop smiling and laughing. He was sorry when Ned said good night, but he couldn’t wait for Monday morning.
Gem seemed to be waiting for him. Maybe she was glad to go to work. Stubby helped Willie fasten on the new harness. A thick leather cap fitted over her head and a flap decorated with shiny brass studs came down over her nose.
“The head is the tallest part of an animal and most likely to get bumped and injured,” the stableman explained. “But this here critter ain’t so likely to bump her head as her sides. All them Sable Island ponies have swollen bellies. It’s from the coarse marram grass they et when they was wild.” He slapped Gem’s belly. “This one is so swole you’d think she was goin’ to have a baby.” He snorted with laughter and Willie felt offended.
“Ned says she’ll be a better shape soon, eating oats and hay and working every day,” he said defensively.
“Off you go then,” said Stubby.
Willie was on his own.
He took Gem out to the landing and was shown an empty box to hitch to her traces. Then he was given directions to find the coal seam where he would be working. He led Gem by her bridle, talking and whistling to her as they went along the dark passageways.
The new seam was very narrow, very rough, low-ceilinged, and dark. The only light came from Willie’s clanny lamp. He thought how terrible it would be if his light went out. But he was proud, very proud, and happy to be working alone with his own horse in the coal mine. Not many boys of eleven would be given such a responsibility.
There was only one trap in this new seam. The boy who opened the door was tall and thin, and had a cough. Willie could hear him coughing before he reached the door.
“You sound like you’ve got a bad cold,” said Willie.
“I ain’t got a cold. I cough all the time. It’s gettin’ worse. Ma says it’s the gallopin’ consumption.”
Willie was shocked. He knew anyone who had consumption would die.
“You should be home in bed,” he said.
“My Pa won’t let me,” said the boy. He coughed again and spat a mouthful of blood on the ground.
The next day, in the stable, Stubby told Willie that the boy could no longer work. Another trapper had taken his place. Willie didn’t know who it was until he and Gem reached the trap.
Simon Ross was grinning from ear to ear when he opened the door.
“Glad you whistle all the time, Wee Willie. I’ll always know when you’re a-comin’.”
Willie didn’t answer.
He had been so happy, driving Gem. The Sable Island horse had proved a willing worker and had caused no trouble at all. The colliers at the workplace had praised both Willie and Gem.
“A good team,” they had said.
Now everything was spoiled.
The next time Willie came through the trap, Gem stumbled on a pile of rocks. The rocks had not been there before.
“Whoa,” said Willie. He examined Gem’s foot to make sure she had not been lamed. He picked up the rocks and cleared the path. He knew Simon had put them there, but he didn’t say anything.
He thought Simon wouldn’t dare to do anything really dangerous. He knew the rules. When he had taken Willie around on his first working day, Simon had said, “Every man’s life depends on the life of another in the pits.”
That night, Willie met Ned Hall when he took Gem to the stable. They walked back together. On the way, Willie said nothing about Simon, but Ned asked a lot of questions about Nellie.
Finally Willie asked, “Are you sweet on her?”
Ned laughed. “Tell you the truth, Willie, she seems like the nicest girl I ever met.”
“She is,” said Willie. Somehow he didn’t mind that Ned was sweet on her.
“You better come in,” he invited, when they got to Sunny Row.
“Can’t. Not in these dirty pit clothes. But I’ll come over some evenin’ soon,” Ned promised.
And he kept his promise the very next night.
Since he had become a driver, Willie had formed the habit of hanging his piece-can on a spike on one of the pit props, not far from the trap. That night, when Nellie opened the can to wash it, a live rat jumped out.
Nellie screamed.
“It wasn’t me!” cried Willie.
There was a wild scramble. Grandma crawled up on the couch, and Nellie stood on a chair, holding tight to her skirts. The little girls laughed hysterically. Ned was laughing, too. John managed to stun the rat with one of his crutches, and then Ned caught it and threw it out the back door.
“Now who would play a trick like that on you, Willie?” he asked.
Willie and John exchanged glances. They knew very well who had done it, but John said, “I guess it’s a joke that’s often played on new boys.”
Willie knew that as long as Simon remained at the trap, his life would be made miserable. But he didn’t want to say anything to any of the miners. John warned him not to get the name of being a whiner and a complainer.
But Willie no longer whistled as he worked. Gem noticed the difference in her young master and often turned her head to look at him
She, too, worked less willingly now.
And that was the way things were on the day of the explosion.
Chapter 9
Wee Willie Maclean had worked as a driver in the Ocean Deeps Mine for nearly a month before the day of the explosion on Level Five. By this time, many of the colliers knew about the small boy and the Sable Island horse. It was said the two worked so well together they could get out as much coal in a day as a full-sized team.
A story was told about another driver, Fibber Foster, who had tried to make Gem work an extra shift one night when his own pit pony went lame. The little mare balked and kicked and refused to enter the tunnel. When Fibber brought Gem back, sweating and bleeding from the cut of a whip, Stubby, the stableman, refused to let him have another horse. Fibber had to go home and lose a night’s work.
The next day, Gem worked as willingly as ever for Wee Willie. By now the two were used to working in the mine. With Gem as his companion, Willie often forgot his fears and worries. The only unhappy time was when he went through the trap. Simon was sure to say something hateful or play some small, mean trick. It got so bad that when Willie said his prayers at night he prayed for something to happen so Simon would no longer be working at his trap.
But he hadn’t meant anything as bad as an explosion.
On the afternoon of November 28, 1902, Willie was whistling cheerfully as he and Gem headed into the tunnel for the last load of coal for that shift. They were partway to the coal face when Gem suddenly stopped.
“Hey! What’s up?” said Willie.
A deep grumble seemed to come from the ground. Then came a great blast of air. Rocks and dust and pieces of wood flew past. Something hit him, and he was knocked to the ground.
By the time he struggled to his feet, he heard the sound of pounding feet. Men came running.
“C’mon, lad! Leave the horse. Get out of here!”
Stunned and bewildered, Willie hesitated.
Pit Pony Page 5