Free Trapper Boy by Hugh R. MacDonald

here.”
    JW looked at the trap door and felt a shiver run the length of his spine. He watched Red pull a stick slathered with grease from a bucket beside the door. The bucket was hidden in the shadows, and JW hadn’t noticed it the night before.
    â€œYou plaster it on the hinges every second night, and it makes opening it a whole lot easier. The door’s heavy and you don’t want it sticking,” Red said, as he liberally spread the grease.
    JW paid close attention. “So every second night, Red?”
    â€œYeah, that should do,” Red said. “I see you came down on the rake with young Mick tonight.”
    â€œWe spent six years in school together, before he came to the pit.”
    â€œWell, you’ll get to spend the next forty or fifty years together down here,” Red said, not realizing the feeling of despair his comments had stirred in JW. “I gotta get over to feed the horses,” he said, pulling the trap door to make sure it opened easily.

Chapter 22
    A lone in the darkness, JW turned up the wick on his lamp and saw long shadows on the far walls. Rats stood on their hind legs as if in a macabre dance. He watched as several sniffed the air. JW noticed the one with the injured leg kept to the back of the pack. He knew the rat wouldn’t last long because the healthy ones would get to the food first.
    JW rubbed his hand along the wall and felt a small indentation he’d noticed the night before. He brushed aside some loose shale and the opening grew larger. He continued to pull shale and small rocks aside until there was just enough room to fit his satchel in the hole. And the hole was high enough off the ground that the rats couldn’t reach it.
    The familiar sound of metal against metal told JW it was time to move nearer to the trap door. As soon as the horse came into view, JW pulled the door and it opened smoothly.
    â€œMight be an hour or more before the next cart comes through. There’s been a small collapse back a ways, and it’s gonna take some time to clear it from the track,” the miner said.
    â€œIs everyone okay?”
    â€œOh yeah, just dirt on the track.”
    â€œThanks for letting me know,” JW said. He waited until the cart cleared the doorway then closed the door.
    He decided to have some of his lunch while he waited. He reached deep into his satchel and pulled out a molasses cookie. The rats squealed as they sensed the food. He ate all of the cookie except for the small portion that rested between the coal-stained fingers of his right hand. He reached his left hand into his satchel and his fingers closed around what he sought. He walked a few steps and threw the remaining piece of cookie as far as he could into the darkness.

    JW watched as the healthy rats scurried after the morsel, their shadows moving hurriedly in his lamp’s light. The injured rat tried in vain to follow, but soon stopped. JW walked toward the injured rat and watched as it tried to get away. The rat pulled its wounded leg behind itself, but made little progress. Stopping a few feet from the rat, JW opened his hand, letting the oats fall to the floor. He then backed away, and watched as the rat greedily ate the meal. It was able to consume most of the oats before the other rats returned.
    â€œBoo!”
    JW jumped and felt his breath whoosh from his mouth. He managed not to scream.
    â€œYou’re easily spooked for an underground miner,” Mickey said, unable to hold in his laughter.
    JW angled his lamp so it illuminated Mickey’s face. “I wasn’t expecting any visitors, especially not ones that tap you on the shoulder and shout ‘boo.’”
    Mickey continued to laugh, and JW soon joined in.
    â€œDid you hear there was a small cave-in and that there won’t be any trams through for an hour or more?” Mickey asked.
    â€œYeah, I heard. Well, at least I got the rats to keep me company.”
    Mickey reached to