The wind began to blow harder, and the rain to descend, and the sounds of moving and confusion around increased. The lights Dosia had seen above seemed to get nearer, and then twinkled down close to the wreck; but even then, in the opaque blackness of the night, they remained only isolated points of light, diffusing no radiance around them, as they dipped down to the earth, and rose again, and wavered and went backward and forward; with them came more voices and stumbling feet, sounds half swallowed by the depth of the night and the growing fury of the gusts of wind.
Dosia felt a new and terrible pang of loneliness as the fleeting flash of a lantern above her revealed that there was no one beside her; it was like being dropped again into nothingness. She did not know how long she lay there. With the recognized tones came a returning wave of life, though she scarce knew what was said. A strong arm raised her to a sitting position, and held her there, with her head resting against the shoulder of this new-found friend. “Drink this—all of it. I want to see if you can stand after a few moments, and perhaps walk—there are so few stretchers.” Dosia could feel him involuntarily shudder.
“No, I will not leave you”—he spoke as one would to a little child, as she made a faint, terrified motion to hold his arm—“I will not leave you. I will take you every step of the way. You are a girl, aren’t you? Were you alone on the train? Had you no friends with you?”
She whispered with some difficulty, “No one.”
“You are perhaps spared much.” There was a silence. Presently he said gently: “We must not wait here too long; we must follow the lanterns—see, they are going. You can stand; now try and walk. Give me your hand—that way. Lean on me. Take one step—now another. Come! Don’t be afraid—you must.”
With his arm around her, supporting, guiding, almost carrying her, she essayed to walk. Shaking at each step pitifully at first, then growing stronger, with one hand locked in his, she found herself ascending the rocky path of the hillside with dark moving shapes beside her. The lights ahead disappeared in the mouth of a long tunnel into which the light was walled solidly. He was leading her along the railroad-ties. As she stumbled from time to time, she became formlessly conscious that he winced and caught his breath involuntarily while trying to keep her from falling with that strong grip. The confused impression of his suffering grew finally so intense upon her, and seemed in her weak condition such a terrible load to bear, that she wept helplessly.
He felt her shaking, and stopped short, looking back at her anxiously. “What’s the matter?”
“I’m hurting you.”
“Not more than I can stand. Don’t stop to talk about it; we mustn’t fall behind. Hold my hand fast.”
The railroad-ties stretched beyond the tunnel. The rain met the wayfarers full in the face. The dark, tramping, struggling forms were all ahead with the drowning lanterns. The walk had become an incessant, endless thing, dreadful as a journey through the inferno, but for the protecting, enfolding clasp of that guiding hand—a strong, clean touch, that subtly conveyed warmth to the blood and courage to the heart. With her palm pressed to that of this unseen friend, Dosia felt clearly that she could have walked blindfolded to the end of the world, sure that he knew the path and that it led to some unknown good. They seemed to grow as one in the unspoken comforting of trust.