Bill got there first, but we were not far behind. When we had come close we could see the train, lying on the stones in the river bed. The engine had turned bottom side up and lay there on its back with its wheels in air. The passenger car was on its side and was so badly smashed that it didn't look like a car at all.
"We've got to have help and have it quick," said Skinny, looking almost pale. "Who'll go to Hoosac Tunnel station for help? Hank, you go, and run like Sam Hill."
Hank was off like a deer before the words were out of his mouth, running toward the station, nearly two miles away.
"Mary!" called Skinny. "Mary! Where are you?"
"Here," we heard a faint voice say. And, climbing down, we found her, wedged in between some timbers so that she could not move.
"Are you hurt?" we asked, as we commenced to pry her loose.
"A little," she told us, beginning to cry. "I don't know how much, but I'm all right for now. Find mamma. I don't know where she is."
After a little search we found her, nearly covered with timbers and bleeding from a cut in her head.
"She's dead," I whispered, while an awful feeling came over me. Her eyes were closed and she didn't move, even after we had lifted the timbers away.
We dragged her out as gently as we could and laid her on a couple of car seats which we took from the train. I sprinkled some water in her face and pretty soon she opened her eyes.