They were passing a brick building, almost grazing its windows, just then. Of a sudden a curl of smoke from one of these was succeeded by a bursting roar, a leap of flame, and Ralph saw the old engineer enveloped in a blazing cloud.
An explosion had blown out the sash directly in his face. The glass, shivered to a million tiny pieces, came against him like a sheet of hail.
Ralph saw him waver and sprang to his side. The engineer's face was cut in a dozen places, and he had closed his eyes.
"Mr. Griscom," cried Ralph, "are you hurt much?"
"Keep her going," muttered the old hero hoarsely, straightening up, "only, only--tell me."
"You can't see?" breathed Ralph.
"Do as I tell you," came the grim order.
"Switch," said Ralph, in strained, subdued tones as they passed out of the fire belt, ran forward, uncoupled, and sent the four cars down a safe siding, the brakeman and a crowd running after it to extinguish the burning roof of one of the freights.
Ralph saw Griscom strain his sight and blink, and shift the locomotive down a V, then to the next rails leading in among the burning buildings.
He brought the panting little worker to a pause, asked Ralph to draw a cup of water, brushed his face with his hand, and breathed heavily.