On the ground before him lay a bleeding, mangled heap, writhing in agony, uttering the horrible groans and sobs of a man dying in fearful pain.
It was Christian Cornthwaite.
CHAPTER XXI. THE FIRE GOES OUT.
A great sob burst from Bram’s lips as he threw himself down beside Christian, whose moans were terrible to hear. He had been caught by the train, the wheels of the engine having passed over both his legs, crushing and mangling them in the most horrible manner. Bram saw at a glance that there was not the slightest hope of saving his friend’s life, and that there was only the faintest chance of prolonging it for a little while.
Fortunately, help was at hand. A man, one of the hands employed at the works, ran out from the sheds which bordered the railway. He was in a panic of terror, and was at first almost incapable of listening to the directions Bram gave him.
Such first aid as it was possible to give Bram was already giving. But Christian himself shook his head feebly, and made a faint gesture to stop him.
“It’s all of no use, Bram,” said he, in a broken voice. “She’s done for me; she’s had her revenge now. You may just as well leave me alone, and then the next passing train will put me out of my pain. Oh, I would be thankful—thankful——”
Another moan broke from his lips, and his head, which was wet with great beads of agony, fell like lead in Bram’s arms.
“Come, come, we can’t leave you lying here,” said Bram, in a deep, vibrating voice, as he hugged the dying head to his breast.