The important duty of supplying the camp with fresh meat was also entrusted to them, and it was not long before every haunt of furred and feathered thing that lived within a radius of miles around was known to them.
Within a few weeks after the establishment of the camp all preliminary work had been completed and the mine was ready for business. To facilitate the delivery of coal to daylight, a rough railroad had been built; its tracks were of wood, its rolling stock one small, four-wheeled box car, its motive power, Jerry the mule. Of this underground railway John was installed as president, board of directors, general manager, inspector general, passenger and freight agent, chief engineer, and superintendent of motive power. One day he was engaged in his many brain-taxing duties, the most trying of which was keeping the motive power "moting." The flaring lamp in his hat showed but little of the mule's tough hide, but that little the superintendent belabored lustily. The little car rumbled and bumped along the rough wooden rails on its way to one of the rooms where the coal was being dug. John whistled cheerily to himself and occasionally interrupted the melody to shout into the mule's wagging ears: "Git up, Jerry!" Soon a point of yellow light appeared far off in the darkness, and as the lumbering car went on it grew in size and strength until its nature could be made out distinctly.
"Hello, Ben," shouted the young driver to his brother, whose cap-light had showed so clearly up the tunnel. "You'd better oil the hinges of that door; they squeak like a hungry rat."
The mule had stopped before a great door which blocked the way; it was so placed as to change the ventilating current of air, and it was Ben's duty to open and close it after each loaded or empty car. He sat in a little recess of the wall and pulled the door open and shut with the aid of a rope.
"It's mighty lonesome here," said he. "Seems as if I couldn't stand it sometimes, so I brought along the 'Arabian Nights' to-day. Been reading about Aladdin; he was underground, too, but all he had to do was to rub a lamp and he just wallowed in pearls, diamonds, and things, while I sit here all day for half a dollar, and do nothing but open and shut this door for you and your old mule."
"Yes, I know all about him," answered John, as he drove through the doorway.
"'Tisn't true, any way," shouted Ben after him. "Couldn't be. Aladdin was a Chinaman, and no Chink ever made even a dollar a day."
"Guess you're right, but don't get lonesome," the voice came echoing back through the darkness, mingled with the rumble of the car and the sharp slap of the stick on poor Jerry's flank.
For a month or more John continued to drive the mule and Ben tended the door. It was late one afternoon, and the younger boy was feeling very tired of living away from the sun and the bright fresh air; the darkness and dankness oppressed him not a little, so he was glad to hear John's strong voice singing: