“’T ain’t neither one. It’s a repair train from Stonin’ton, with a lot o’ dagos an’ men. Caboose went clean under, an’ two cars piled on top.”
Sanford breathed freer; the Board were safe, anyhow.
“Anybody killed?”
“Yes. Some says six; some says more. None in the caboose got out. The dagos was on the dirt-car an’ jumped.”
The yacht sped on. As she neared the railroad draw Jack took Helen’s hand and led her down into the cabin. He did not want her to see any sight that would shock her. Mrs. Leroy stood by Sanford; the yacht was her house, so to speak; some one might need its hospitality and shelter, and she wanted to be the first to offer it. The same idea had crossed Sanford’s mind.
“Major,” said Sanford, “please tell Sam to get some brandy ready and bring some of the mattresses from the crew’s bunks up on deck; they may be useful.”
A voice now hailed Sanford. It came from the end of the scow nearest the sunken house, now seen to be one end of a caboose car. “Is there a doctor aboard your yacht?”
“Yes, half a one. Who wants him?” called Smearly, leaning over the rail in the direction of the sound.
“We’ve got a man here we can’t bring to. He’s alive, but that’s all.”
The yacht backed water and moved close to the scow. Sanford jumped down, followed by Smearly carrying the brandy and the major with a mattress, and ran along her deck to where the man lay. The yacht kept on. It was to land the ladies a hundred yards away, and then return.