He entered the cars still standing on the rails and walked through from one end to the other. Cherry Hopkins was in none of them. He hesitated at first to speak to anybody about the girl, but finally he saw the conductor of the wrecked accommodation.
“Wait a moment, Mr. Carlton,” said Ralph, holding the excited man by the sleeve. “Do you remember if the supervisor’s daughter was one of your passengers to-night?”
“Supervisor Hopkins’ girl?” exclaimed Carlton. “Why, yes, she was. I mind seeing her father’s pass, viséed by him for her use. Yes, she came with us from Shelby Junction.”
“So I understood,” said Ralph. “Have you seen her since the accident?”
“Why, I—No, I haven’t, Fairbanks!”
Ralph followed Carlton back through the train. Most of the women were gathered in one car. Carlton asked briskly if any of them had seen Miss Cherry, Supervisor Hopkins’ daughter.
Several of the women remembered the girl.
“She was not hurt. I am sure of that,” said one woman whose arm was in a sling, “for she helped bandage my arm. Then, it seems to me, she ran out of the car to see what was going on. I have not seen her since.”
Nobody else remembered having seen her since soon after the wreck. Carlton, the conductor, had done all he could to aid Ralph in his quest. The latter was forced to go back to his own train without finding the supervisor’s daughter.
One thing that he had learned, however, quieted the young fellow’s anxiety. It seemed quite sure that Cherry had not been hurt when Number 33 left the track. If she could help her fellow passengers after the accident, she was in no need of attention herself.