"Do you feel able to continue your journey, Mrs. Richmond?" Mr. Norton asked. "We could manage to carry the little girl as far as the station and there is a train due from North Adams in about an hour. Or would you rather wait for the special and go back?"
"I think we'd better go back to Readsboro," she said. "We have friends there and I don't feel much like walking."
We didn't have long to wait, for the train soon came puffing down the valley. Two doctors jumped off before it had time to stop and hurried over to where we were standing. They were surprised some, when they saw the people all bandaged up.
"Who did this?" asked one of them, standing over the conductor. "I thought there were no surgeons here. Did you succeed in getting somebody from North Adams?"
"These boys," Mr. Norton told him. "They are Boy Scouts and have been in training some time for this very job."
The doctor gave a little whistle.
"Good thing for him," he said, "that they were around. I couldn't have done it much better, myself."
We felt proud when he said that, and I could tell by the way Mr. Norton smiled at us that he was feeling pretty good over it.
All the same, the doctor bandaged him over again, to make sure that everything was all right. When he had finished, the hurt ones were put on board the train and made as comfortable as possible. We heard some cheering over by the wreck and hurried back to find out what had happened.
"They are alive," a man explained. "We've jacked her up a little, and the engineer just spoke to us. He says that the fireman is alive, too."