I knew in one glance that father didn't see or hear. I saw the man father was speaking to wave his arms, and shout a warning, but father never took in what he meant. I noticed even that the driver and the stoker of the coming engine were doing their best, calling out, and sounding the whistle. But no use. It was all part of what father was always hearing. His mind was off, somewhere else.
There wasn't time to stop the train before it must reach him. I knew that. And I knew I could still less get to him; yet I think I screamed, and ran forward. But the rush of the train which he did not notice drowned all else.
Mother never stirred, and not another sound came from her.
Then—
[CHAPTER X.]
SHARP AND SUDDEN.
YES; they did their best to stop in time. But it was no use; for the brakes of those days were slow-acting; and before the train could do more than begin to slacken, all was over.
The buffer caught him first, and swept him along; and then he was among the cruel wheels; and what they left of him was no longer—father!
It couldn't have been more than a moment's shock of pain. Not to him, I mean! But oh, the shock and pain to us who loved him!
He was so ready to go. He had loved and lived for his Master for many a year. Not that he was ever much of a talker about religion; but he lived it, which is worth a deal more. I know he was readier for death than we were for the sorrow of losing him.