When all was over, kind and reverent hands began the sad work of exhuming the unfortunate victims of the accident.
It was thought at first that all were dead—that not one had escaped; that every soul had been hurled, with scarcely a moment's warning, into eternity.
The brave young carpenter was found lying beneath two mangled bodies, with the beautiful girl whom he had tried to save clasped close in one of his arms; the other lay crushed beneath him.
"Brother and sister," some one had said, as, bending over them, he had tried to disengage the lovely girl from his embrace.
He had only been stunned, however, by the shock, when the car struck, and he now opened his great brown eyes, drawing in a deep, deep breath, as if thus taking hold anew of the life that had so nearly been dashed out of him.
This was followed by a groan of pain, and he became conscious that he had not escaped altogether unscathed.
"Is she safe?" he gasped, his first thought, in spite of his own sufferings, being for the girl for whom he had braved so much, while he tried to look into the white, still face hidden upon his breast.
They tried to lift her from him, but her little hands were so tightly locked at the back of his neck that it was no easy task to unclasp them.
"She is dead," a voice said, when at last she was removed, and some one tried to ascertain if her heart was still beating; "the shock has killed her."
"No, no!" sobbed the now completely unnerved young carpenter; "do not tell me that she is—dead."