e was thinking of what might happen,
he could not help remembering how many men and boys he had known, some
his own playmates--or workmates rather--who had been killed in that and
the neighbouring pits. Some had been blown to pieces by the fire-damp;
others had been stifled by the choke-damp; a still greater number had
been killed coming up and down the shaft, either by the rope or chain
breaking, or by falling out of the skip or basket, or by the skip itself
being rotten and coming to pieces. But even yet more had lost their
lives by the roof falling in, or by large masses of coal coming down and
crushing them. Many had been run over by the corves, or crushed by them
against the sides, like his poor brother Lawry; and others had been
killed by the machinery above ground. "I wonder," thought Dick,
"whether one of those things will be my lot." Poor little Dick, what
between fancied dangers and real dangers, he had an unhappy time of it.
Still he was warm and dry, and had plenty of food, and nothing to do but
sit and open a door. Some might envy him.

Dick had one friend, called David Adams, a quiet, pale-faced, gentle
little boy, younger than himself. He had only lately come to the mine,
and been made a trapper. His father had been killed by the falling in
of the roof, and his widowed mother had hard work to bring up her
family; so, much against her will, she had to let little David go and be
a trapper. She had never been down a mine, and did not know what sort
of a life he would have to lead, or she might not have let him go.
Sometimes one man took charge of David and sometimes another, and placed
him at his trap,--generally the man who was going to hew in that
direction. Miners, though their faces look black on week-days, and
their hands are rough, have hearts like other men, and all felt for
little David. Often Samuel Kempson took charge of David, and carried
him home with him; and Dick and David used to talk to each other and
tell their griefs. David could read, and he would tell Dick all about
what he had read on Sundays, and Dick at last said that he should like
to read too, and David promised to teach him. At last David lent him
some books, and used to come in on Sundays, and in the evenings in
summer, to help him read them, and that made them all greater friends
than before.

Well, there sat Dick at his trap, very hungry and very sleepy and very
tired, and longing to hear the shout of "Kenner, kenne