“Yes, while I take you away. We could do nothing for him in any case; his injuries are grave and need a doctor’s help. The best service we can perform in his behalf is to start your father or some other physician here as quickly as possible. He may live or he may die; that isn’t in our hands. He’s unconscious and not 174 suffering, and probably will not feel pain for some hours if he does live, so we can go without feeling that we’re robbing him of any of his chances of recovery. Your conscience may rest quite easy on that point. Come, we’ll start at once. The quicker we reach your father, the quicker he will arrive here.”
When they were in his car he wrapped a robe about her against the sharp chill.
“I am cold; my teeth are chattering,” she said.
“You’ve been under a great strain. Just lie back and rest and think of something else than what has happened, if you can,” he urged.
“I’ll try to.”
The lamps blazed out at his touch of the switch and the car began to move. She closed her eyes. She did not wish to see the scene of the smash, with the leaping fire and the horrible pile of crushed metal. Indeed, she drew the robe before her face, where she kept it for some time.
“Are we past the place?” she asked, finally.
“A long way past.”
“Thank heaven! Nothing shall ever drag me up this road again!”
“It will not take us long to reach Johnson’s and be off this trail altogether, for it’s down-hill going all the way.”