The operations of the detective as a laborer in the coal mines were destined to be of brief duration. Commencing nigh the middle of February, 1874, working a few days loading coal-wagons from the chute in the slope, to be run to, and then emptied in the breaker, he soon had all that he cared for in that particular line of industry. A day’s apportionment was considered to be about eight of these wagon-loads of the mass coal, comprising pieces varying in weight from a few pounds to several hundreds of pounds, all of which he was expected to place in the body of the small truck for removal to the upper regions. He was supposed to be in the shaft from half-past six in the morning until about five or half past five o’clock in the afternoon, which was the day shift, when other workmen took his place. Everything, at first, appeared very strange to him, and the close air made him sick and giddy. Each wagon would transport some two and one-half tons of coal, hence the shoveler’s ten hours’ stint would be equal to handling twenty tons of anthracite _per diem_, a task that one, accustomed, for mere pastime, to shovel into a cellar, handily with a scoop, his ton or half ton of grate or range coal, can hardly appreciate. He may come near it, but the strength required to lift the larger pieces he cannot properly estimate. And this wearisome occupation must be steadily pursued, from early morning until the hour for luncheon, and from one o’clock P.M. until time to be relieved by the night force. It constituted much heavier work than McKenna had ever been accustomed to, hence it is not to be wondered at that his hands were worn quite raw when he left the shaft-house at the colliery, after his first day’s experience in it. Indeed, had there not occurred an accident, in which some of the apparatus by which the loaded trucks were elevated to the hopper of the breaker gave way, it is more than probable that, before quitting time, he would have found himself entirely disabled and compelled to vacate his post. As it was, the condition of his bruised and bleeding fingers, when he returned to Lawler’s for supper, after a good cleansing in the kitchen, was quite deplorable, and he employed his knife and fork awkwardly and painfully enough during the meal. He made no wry faces, however, as this would have been an admission that he had never before had anything to do with mining of any sort, but bore the pain in gritty silence, retiring early to his apartment, not to write or sleep, however, as the tortures he experienced interfered with the use of the pen, and kept his eyes open, in spite of his exhaustion and desire to become oblivious to sublunary affairs. It was almost time to rise and prepare for another laborious day, before his eyelids closed in broken and fitful slumber.