Down the Slope Part 1

Down the Slope.

by James Otis.

CHAPTER I

THE BREAKER BOY

"Jest moved here, eh?"

"Came last Friday."

"And you are going into the breaker?"

"Yes."

"For thirty-five cents a day?"

"That is all the company pays, and a green hand can't expect to get more."

"Were you ever in a mine before?"

"I never even saw one."

"A trip down the slope will be enough to make you wish such a place in which to earn a living never existed. Why don't you try something else before it is too late?"

"What do you mean by 'too late'?"

"When a fellow is in debt to the company's store he can't afford to be independent, and it is about the same as selling yourself outright for enough to eat and drink."

"I won't get into debt."

"Wait a week, and see if you can say the same thing then."

"I mustn't get trusted. I'm the only one to whom mother can look for support. We hadn't any money with which to go to the city, and so came here. It isn't likely I shall be obliged to stay in the breaker forever, and after a while it will be possible to get a better job. Where are you working?"

"I'm Bill Thomas' b.u.t.ty."

"What's that?"

"His helper. He's a miner, and I'll have the same kind of a lay after being with him a while."

"Were you ever in the breaker?"

"I sorted slate from coal most three years, an' got more dust than money; but I'm tough, you see, an' didn't wear out my lungs."

"What's your name?"

"Sam Thorpe; but if you ever want anybody to help you out of a sc.r.a.pe, an' I reckon that'll happen before many days, ask for Bill's b.u.t.ty."

"I am Fred Byram, and mother has hired the new house near the store."

"I'm sorry for you; but as it can't be helped now, keep your eyes peeled, for the boys are a tough lot. When you want a friend come to me.

I like your looks, and wish you'd struck most any other place than Farley's, 'cause it's the worst to be found in the Middle Field."

With this not very encouraging remark Sam went toward the mouth of the slope, and the new breaker boy was left to his own devices.

It was six o'clock in the morning. The underground workers were coming singly or in groups to begin the day's work for which each would be paid in accordance with the amount of coal taken out, and no one could afford to remain idle many moments.

Fred knew he must report to the breaker boss before seven o'clock, and approached the grimy old building wondering if it would be necessary for him to work three years, as Sam Thorpe had done, before earning more than thirty-five cents per day.

Entering the breaker, which was thickly coated both inside and out with coal-dust, he reported to Donovan, the boss, by saying:

"I have come to work. Here is my ticket."

"Green?"

"Yes, sir."

"Here, Chunky, take this new hand alongside of you, and see that there is no skylarking."

The boy referred to as Chunky made no reply; but looked up from beside the long chute at which he was sitting, as if the task of breaking in a new hand was very welcome. A fat, good-natured fellow he apparently was, and Fred fancied he would be an agreeable task-master.

He, like the others, was curious to know if his companion had been in a mine before, and on receiving the information, remarked sagely:

"You'll be mighty sick of the whole thing before night, but it's safer than down in the galleries."

"What must I do?"

"At seven o'clock the coal will be dumped in at the other end of the chute, an' while it's runnin' past you must pick out the slate."

"Is that all?"

"By the time your hands are cut into mince-meat you'll think it's enough," was the grim reply, and before Fred could speak again the day's labor had begun. The black fragments came through the chute with a roar which was deafening, and the "green hand" was at a loss to distinguish coal from slate.

"Take out the dull, grayish stuff," Chunky shouted, as he seized from the moving ma.s.s sufficient fragments to serve as specimens, and in a short time Fred began to have a general idea of his duties.

Before the forty minutes "nooning" had come around his hands were cut and bleeding; but the thought of his mother, who looked to him for support, was enough to keep him busily at work, and when the whistle sounded he had most a.s.suredly earned half of the thirty-five cents.

A short rest, a lunch eaten amid the sooty vapor, which caused one to fancy he was gazing through a veil whenever he glanced across the building, and then the fatiguing labor was recommenced, to be ended only at the stroke of six, when miners, b.u.t.tys, mule drivers and bosses hastened to the surface of the earth once more after having been deprived of sunlight for nearly twelve hours.

Without paying any especial attention to the fact, Fred noticed that although he was among the last to leave the breaker, the majority of the boys followed close behind as he started toward home.

In order to reach the company's store it was necessary to traverse a mirey road on which were no habitations for nearly fifty yards, and when Fred was half this distance from the breaker, a voice from behind shouted:

"Hi! Hold on a bit, you new feller!"

Fred turned to see a dozen of those who had been at work near him, advancing threateningly.