What havoc a single minute—nay, a half minute, can make! Here was a train full of passengers, easy in mind, moving at a speed not beyond the average. Not a thought of anxiety or apprehension was in the mind of any. The thought of the pleasant welcome that awaited them at the end of the journey in the great city, not more than ten miles away, warmed the hearts of the travelers, and brought to some faces a contented smile.
Thirty seconds pass, and the train is a wreck—the cars lying on their sides, some of the passengers insensible, some maimed, a few, alas! dead.
And what has brought all this about?
Half a dozen rails, lying beside the track, have been placed on it by some fiend, regardless of the suffering and death he is likely to cause, in order to obtain a chance to plunder the ill-fated passengers. Such men are scoundrels for whom hanging would be too good.
Among those who suffered least was the train boy. He was partially stunned, but almost immediately recovered his consciousness and his wits. He sprang to his feet and looked around him. The boy, unaccustomed to scenes of suffering, shuddered as he saw the mutilated victims of the latest railway horror. The groans which he heard pierced his heart, and he could scarcely forbear groaning. Here lay a mother and her child, both dead, the child's dead hand closely grasping the hand of the mother who could neither help him nor herself. But I do not propose to harrow up the soul of the reader by an enumeration of the terrible scene. I am chiefly interested in giving an account of what has a bearing upon our hero and his history.
While Paul, scarcely recovered from his bewilderment, was looking about him, his attention was drawn to a sight that stirred his indignation.
Lying upon his back close by was Alexander Bradford, the rich manufacturer. He was breathing heavily, but appeared insensible. Bending over him was an ill-looking man, with an expression of covetous greed, coolly engaged in rifling the pockets of the helpless victim.
It was not a passenger. Paul knew that at a glance, for he had repeatedly gone through the train, and his memory of faces was excellent.
"That man wrecked the train, or had something to do with it," Paul instantly concluded, "and now he is gathering in his harvest. I will take the liberty of interfering with his little game."
He looked about for a weapon, and had not far to look. A piece of wood from the debris of the broken train furnished him a convenient club. He did not like to use it till he had given the train-wrecker warning, however.