Free Trapper Boy by Hugh R. MacDonald Page B

pointed the way to JW’s trap door, then turned to go back to his own.
    â€œCan’t you walk back with me?” JW asked.
    â€œYou’re not afraid, are you?”
    â€œNot really, but I don’t want to get lost.”
    â€œJust follow the tracks back to your door. You can’t get lost,” Mickey said.
    â€œWhat if the trap door won’t open from this side?” JW asked, unable to hide his rising panic.
    â€œAlright, I’ll walk you back.”
    â€œThanks.”
    They walked in silence. JW felt the blood rise to his cheeks and stay there. He waited until Mickey pushed on the door and then slid through the opening.
    â€œThanks, Mickey.”
    â€œSure, no problem.”
    They heard the sounds of metal against metal and knew that the trams were running again.
    â€œOh no! I’ll never get back to my door in time,” Mickey said, and broke into a run.
    With the door opened a crack, JW watched for a moment as Mickey hurried along the tracks. The tram was already making the turn, so JW closed the door tightly. He attempted to make small talk in order to slow down the miner.
    â€œI’ve no time to talk, boy. Worked all night with nothing to show for it. Open the door, boy.”
    JW pulled the rope and watched as man and beast sped along on their journey, coal dust falling from the cart. He closed the trap door again, and soon the silence returned, broken only by the occasional squeak of a rat.
    JW hoped Mickey had made it back to his door before the unhappy miner. His face flushed hot at the memory of Mickey walking him back to his trap door. Fear of the dark had overwhelmed him. He recalled the pleading that had been in his voice and the reluctant agreement of Mickey. Few words had been exchanged.
    He had little time to think about much of anything, because several minutes later another pony came pulling a filled cart. A short time later it was followed by another, and JW listened to the familiar sound of metal on metal. He realized the extra carts must have been the ones waiting on the other side of the roof-fall.
    JW leaned his back against the wall and felt something move across his boot. His heartbeat quickened. Pulling his foot back, he saw it was the lame rat. His first instinct was to shoo it away, but instead he reached into his coat pocket and found a few oats. He let them fall next to his foot. The rat devoured the oats and scurried into the darkness. It wasn’t ready to trust him completely.
    He leaned against the wall again, and his heart beat slow and regular. He felt his eyelids become heavy, and stood up straight. After a few minutes, his eyes again started to close, and he shuffled his feet, but sleep overtook him. He awoke to the sound of bells ringing softly. A miner stood before him, and the horse, with bells connected to his harness, shook his head from side to side. The bells reminded JW of a sleigh ride he’d been on years earlier.
    â€œYou find the nights long, do you, son?” the man asked.
    â€œYes, sir, I do,” JW answered.
    â€œThey surely are. I spent a year on this very door, and many a night I drifted off to sleep. But I somehow got used to it. I was about sixteen when I started in the mine. Have to keep your mind filled to stay awake on this job. I did a lot of daydreaming. Thought about places I’d been before coming underground and wished I was back there. Still think about the ships I sailed on from time to time. The ocean can be a terrible master, but to see the sun in the day and the moon and stars at night … ah, those were fine times. My name’s David Smith, but folks call me Smitty.”
    â€œMine’s John Wallace Donaldson, but some call me JW. Where did you sail on the ships?”
    â€œBack home in Barbados,” Smitty said.
    â€œBarbados. That’s in the Caribbean, right?”
    â€œIt sure is, and the water is as blue as the sky, and the sand is as white as snow. But the promise of