“The cup is fairly yours, Rod; for I put the emery in my wheel myself. Can you forgive—” was what he heard.
Rodman’s eyes were filled with tears as he answered, “Of course I forgive you, fully and freely, old man. But don’t worry about that now. Keep quiet and don’t try to talk. We’ll soon have you at home, where you’ll be all right, and get over this shake-up in no time.”
A bright smile passed over Snyder’s face, and glorified it. Then his eyes closed wearily, never again to be opened in this world. When help came, and the poor, torn body was tenderly lifted, its spirit had fled. His faults had found forgiveness, here, from the one whom he had most deeply injured. Is there any doubt but what he also found it in the home to which he had gone so peacefully, and with so happy a smile lighting his face?
Strange as it may seem, Snyder Appleby was the only victim of this curious accident; for the entire mass of falling material in the tunnel descended on the baggage car, of which he was the sole occupant. The hundreds of excursionists in the coaches were badly shaken up, and greatly frightened by the sudden stopping of the train; but not one was seriously injured.
President Vanderveer first heard of the accident at Major Appleby’s house, where he was engaged in an earnest conversation with that gentleman, about his nephew and his adopted son. While they were still talking, a carriage drove to the door, bearing Rod Blake and the lifeless form of him whom the young fireman had risked his life to save.
After the Major had listened to the story of the lad who brought to him at the same time joy and grief, the tears streamed down his furrowed cheeks, and he exclaimed, “My boy! my dear boy! the pride and hope of my old age! Forgive me as you have forgiven him, and never leave me again.”
“I never will, Uncle,” was the answer.
At Snyder’s funeral the most beautiful floral tribute was an exact copy of the Steel Wheel Club’s railroad cup, in Parma violets, with the inscription, woven of white violets, “Forgive us our Trespasses.” Directly behind the coffin, the members of the club marched in a body, headed by their captain, Rod Blake, whose resignation had never been accepted.
As for the young captain’s future, the events on which this story is founded, are of too recent occurrence for it to be predicted just yet. That he will become a prominent railroad man, in some one of the many lines now opening before him, is almost certain. He finished his apprenticeship with Truman Stump, on locomotive number 10, and became so fully competent to act as engineman himself, that the master mechanic offered him the position. At the same time President Vanderveer invited him to become his private secretary, which place Rod accepted, as it seemed to him the best school in which to study the higher branches of railroad management. He is still one of the most popular fellows on the road, and his popularity extends to every branch of the company’s service. Even Smiler, the railroad dog, will leave his beloved trains for days at a time, to sit in the President’s office, and mount guard over the desk of the private secretary.
Not long ago, when the chief officer of the road was asked to explain the secret of Rod Blake’s universal popularity, he replied: “I’m sure I don’t know, unless it is that he never allows his pride to get the better of his judgment, and always performs his duties on time.”