“He struck it on the ties, I guess,” said one of the brakemen. “It’s bleeding a bit. Better rub some snow on it.”
By this time Harry and Boxy came limping to the scene, both presenting a most deplorable sight, Boxy especially, with half of his clothing torn from his back.
“We can’t wait,” said the conductor. “You want to be more careful how you coast down this hill,” he went on, to the crowd that was beginning to collect. “If you don’t, we’ll have the worst kind of an accident here some day.”
He motioned to the engineer, and hurried to one of the cars, followed by the other train hands. In a few seconds the express was once more on its way.
The crowd around the boys kept growing, as it spread that an accident had occurred.
“Harry Webb’s toboggan was smashed by the express!”
“Andy Bascoe was almost killed!”
“Every one of them was shaken up badly!”
Under the tender care of Jack and the others, Andy soon came to himself. But his head ached fearfully, and he could hardly stand on his feet.
“Yo’ sit on my bread-shubble, and I’ll ride yo’ home,” said Pickles Johnsing, who happened to be on hand. “Yo’ can sit on an’ hole him, Jack, if yo’ wants to,” he continued.