GALATIA, Ill. -- The miner has just taken a fresh cut of Illinois coal. More than 450 feet below ground, he stands beside a 40-ton machine, using remote control to tunnel it slowly into the earth.

His only light comes from a bulb on his hard hat and the red glow of a methane monitor that tracks the explosive gas seeping from the coal.

A spark could trigger an explosion. A misplaced support bolt -- or plain bad luck -- could cause a cave-in. Anyone who breathes too much dust could damage his lungs.

Jagged slabs of limestone break loose overhead.

"Whoa! Maybe I should move," said the miner, Ron Bryant, dodging some falling rocks.

Bryant, 24, works at the tip of the state's biggest underground coal mine, the American Coal Company's Galatia Mine in Southern Illinois.

He is a second-generation miner who belongs to an underground band of brothers -- with a few sisters in the mix -- who earn a living in some of the harshest working conditions in America.

Yet it's anyone's guess whether the state's coal industry will be around long enough for another generation to follow in Bryant's footsteps.

Illinois' rich reserves of high-sulfur coal once supported dozens of mines like Galatia, and gave rise to most of the towns that dot the state's southern countryside.

But the Clean Air Act of 1990 required coal-burning electric utilities to limit emissions generated by high-sulfur coal. Cleaner coal from Wyoming's Powder Basin picked up sales, as did natural gas, while Illinois coal lost business.

Today, Illinois' 18 mines produce slightly more than half of the 60 million annual tons the state produced for decades leading up to the 1990s.

A 40-minute ride

On one recent morning, Bryant punched in at 8 a.m., put on the company's standard orange overalls, hiked up steel-toed boots and strapped on a belt with 40 pounds of equipment, including an emergency oxygen tank he hasn't yet had to use.

Once underground, it took him 40 minutes to ride to his post.

The 19-year-old Galatia Mine is 54 square miles of dark tunnels about the width of a driveway and just high enough to allow most men to walk upright.

The walls are chalky white, coated with pulverized limestone that acts as a flame suppressant.

"You've got falling rock, gas, and if you get between a piece of machinery and the coal wall, you're going to squirt," said Maynard St. John, Galatia's general manager.

Not unlike soldiers, miners tend to look out for each other. One recalled cleaning up after a cave-in, when he and others were up to their waists in water. A wall suddenly collapsed and pulled a man under. The miner hoisted him up, saving his life.

Still, Bryant isn't worried. "I don't think about it," he said as he took a cut of coal. As long as he's careful, he feels safe.

He says he likes the challenge of operating the mining machine. Besides, the $19.50 an hour he earns, plus overtime, goes a long way where he lives.

"I can't picture doing anything else," he said.