"Hey, mister!" she shouted; but even if Rudnik heard the warning it served only to hasten his footsteps. Consequently the train was almost upon him before he became aware of it, and even as he leaped wildly to one side the edge of the cowcatcher struck him a glancing blow. Miss Duckman dropped her bundles and plunged through the mud to where Rudnik lay, while the train, which was composed of empty freight cars, slid to a grinding stop a short distance up the track.
She was kneeling recklessly in the mud supporting Rudnik with both her hands when the engineer and the fireman reached them.
"Is your husband hurted bad?" the engineer asked Miss Duckman.
The tears were rolling down Miss Duckman's worn cheeks, and her lips trembled so that she could not reply. Nevertheless, at the word "husband" her maidenly heart gave a tremendous bound, and when the engineer and the fireman lifted Rudnik gently into the caboose her confusion was such that without protest she permitted the conductor to assist her carefully up the car steps.
"Sit ye down on that stool there, lady," he said. "As far as I can see your man ain't got no bones broken."
"But——" Miss Duckman protested.
"Now, me dear lady," the conductor interrupted, "don't ye go worritin' yerself. I've got me orders if anybody gets hit be the train to take him to the nearest company's doctor in the direction I'm goin'. See? And if you was Mister and Missus Vanderbilt, they couldn't treat you no better up to the Emergency Hospital."
"But——" Miss Duckman began. Again she attempted to explain that Rudnik was not her husband, and again the conductor forestalled her.
"And if he's able to go home to-night," he said finally, "ye'll be given free transportation, in a parlour car d'ye mind, like ye'd be on your honeymoon."
He patted her gently on the shoulder as he turned to a waiting brakeman.