The boy's proper name was Bob White. He was a tall, thin, singular-looking lad, about fifteen years old, with a pale face. When he first went to work in the mine some of the boys called him White Bob, in nonsense, and the name had stuck to him. He was certainly silent after Brownlee spoke to him, but he kept throwing back his head, lifting up his hands, turning up his eyes, and expressing his mock astonishment in so many odd ways, that the rest of the boys, although they bore no ill-will to Charlie, were convulsed with laughter. As for Charlie himself, he was in a great passion; it was fortunate that just at this moment the cage reached the bottom, and in the general scramble to get out he lost sight of Bob. "Now, my boy, keep close to me," said Brownlee, "never mind those fellows: keep your temper, and they'll soon tire of it. Now look about you; you are many hundred feet under ground." It was a strange scene to Charlie. Look where you would, nothing but black met the eye--black walls, black floor, groups of black men standing about--every one and every thing was covered with the bright coal dust that glittered and sparkled in the rays of the lamps, like black diamonds. "Now," said Brownlee, "we must get to work. I'll take you to your place, as it is in my way;" and they turned up a sort of road or gallery that had been cut out of the slate and coal. On each side of this branched, right and left, other roads or galleries that had been formed by the taking away of the coal; from these again branched other roads, and so on, that you might walk for miles under ground, in and out of the workings of the mine. As the coal is hewn away the roof is supported by props of wood. In some places it was so low that Brownlee had to walk stooping. Of course Charlie did not find all this out at first, for they only had the light given by their lamps to guide them and relieve the intense darkness. "What is that?" asked Charlie, as a little spark of light like a glowworm appeared in the distance, and a low rumbling noise met their ears. "You'll see in a minute," said Brownlee, smiling at Charlie's wonder. The light came gradually nearer and nearer, and then Charlie saw it was a lamp carried by a boy who had charge of a little pony and some coal tubs--sort of square tubs on wheels. Brownlee told him that the boys who had that work were called putters; they were occupied in taking empty tubs to the men who hewed the coal, and in bringing away the full tubs, and that they earned good wages: they had a shilling a score for the tubs they removed. "I should think the poor ponies have a hard life of it," said Charlie. "Do they take the tubs right away to the mouth of the pit?" "No, they only go so far, then the engine pulls them to the shaft, and they are drawn up to bank, to be emptied and sent down again." "We seem to have come a long way," said Charlie.