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1932, Bob Kerr, born Bogumil Kierzkowski, arrived in Northern Ontario
alone, hoping to find work at the Wright Hargreaves gold mine. The area buzzed with desperate men looking for work. Bob was just 16, but he had left Poland with dreams of supporting his family. After waiting all day by the mine gates with no luck, his stomach growled, leading him to the Polish Hall in search of a free meal. Inside, Bob’s eyes landed on a young French-Canadian girl serving soup. Nervous, he approached the counter. “Witam… Dziękuję,” he stammered in Polish, offering her a shy smile. The girl paused, clearly unsure of what he said but smiled warmly in return. “Pardon, I do not speak Polish.” Bob scratched his head, embarrassed. “Uhm... Miło cię poznać?” The girl let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “I don’t understand, but you seem nice.” She handed him a bowl of soup. “I’m Claire.” Bob repeated her name, “Claire.” Then, hesitating, he said, “Bob... Kerr.” “Bob Kerr?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “That doesn’t sound Polish.” Bob shrugged, “Bogumil is hard here... Bob, easier.” Claire smiled at his effort. “Well, Bob, enjoy your soup.” Over the next few days, Bob returned to the Polish Hall, each time attempting a few more Polish phrases with Claire. They laughed at their awkward exchanges, but the bond between them grew. Bob was grateful for her warmth in such a cold, unfamiliar place. Finally, Bob secured a job at the mine. It wasn’t easy. Every day was grueling, long hours, cold tunnels, and heavy machinery. After his shifts, he would visit Claire, telling her about his day through broken sentences and gestures. “Mine is... very hard,” Bob said one evening, mimicking the motion of lifting heavy rocks. “I can imagine,” Claire said. “Be careful, Bob. Mining’s dangerous.” He nodded, her concern warming his heart. “I be... careful. Promise.” But danger found him anyway. One cold morning, while deep in the mine, the earth began to tremble. Bob froze, his pickaxe falling from his hands as the tunnel collapsed. Rocks tumbled, trapping him. Darkness swallowed everything. “Pomocy! Help!” he screamed, but there was no response. Bob’s heart raced as he banged on the walls, panic rising. “Please!” Hours passed, or maybe minutes—it was hard to tell in the darkness. Just when he thought all hope was lost, a faint light flickered. Bob blinked, sure his eyes were playing tricks, but no—the light grew closer. A figure appeared, calm and serene. “Lucien,” the man said softly, his voice like a whisper in the wind. “Who... who are you?” Bob asked, breathless. Lucien smiled but said nothing more. Instead, he pointed to a narrow crack in the wall. Bob, though confused, followed the direction. With no other option, he began to dig. As he worked, Claire’s words echoed in his mind: You are stronger than you know. Bob gritted his teeth, determined to survive. With each movement, he felt Lucien’s presence guiding him, encouraging him. After what felt like an eternity, Bob broke through the rubble and found an escape route. He collapsed on the other side, gasping for air. Minutes later, rescue workers arrived, pulling him to safety. At the hospital, Claire rushed to his side. “Bob! You’re alive!” she exclaimed, her voice thick with relief. Bob smiled weakly, his body aching. “Lucien... he saved me.” “Lucien?” Claire asked, confused. “Who’s Lucien?” Bob frowned. “In the mine... He showed me... way out.” Claire’s brow furrowed. “But there was no one else down there. They didn’t find anyone.” Bob stared at her, realization dawning. “He... he was not real?” he asked quietly, but deep down, he knew. Lucien wasn’t an ordinary man—he was something more. His guardian angel. A few days later, Bob returned to the mine with Claire by his side. As they stood together, looking over the rugged land, Claire squeezed his hand. “You’re brave, Bob. Stronger than you think.” Bob smiled, feeling a new sense of strength within himself. “Because of you,” he said, “and... Lucien.” Together, they stood, ready for whatever came next. Reading Activities for The Gold Beneath.
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