The engineer took his lantern and silently went back and swung the spot of fire in the black, cold air. It had not rained, as we have said, for many weeks, but his feet splashed into deep pools and running rivulets, and sank into crevices and gashes in the trembling earth.
A few of the passengers followed the engineer. The locality where the train stood was examined thoroughly. Again, the same result,—no human creature, dead or living, was to be seen. The pauper dog sat just where they had left him. The engineer went up and patted him. At the touch he fell over—dead of fright.
They returned to report what they had found. As they did so, they called and shouted into the darkness, seeking for the brave life that had saved their own. Only the roar of the earthquake answered them.
"THE LOCALITY WHERE THE TRAIN STOOD WAS EXAMINED THOROUGHLY."
"But he must be there!" cried the lad, "of course he's there. He's a very shabby old Negro. He is all patches and his knees and hair stick out. His hat looked like a coon-skin hat. His hair is gray hair. He carries a little bundle on his shoulder. He's a very strong old Negro. He smashed the station in like—like blocks. He was a slave, and he was so strong he cost two thousand dollars. He's going to see his daughter in Branchville. She's dying. He's so poor he had to walk from Charleston all the way. He saved the train. You just look and you'll find him."
A mighty shock drowned the boy's words at this moment, and seemed to jeer at them. The people huddled together, and looked into each others' appalled faces, and no man said a word. Instinctively they ranged themselves into a mass, as if united humanity could defy aroused and raging Nature,—then broke, and ran for their homes, and wives and babes, and whatever fate had left to them.