“Yes, marm, my left arm is dreadful,” the girl moaned, and Virgie could feel that it hung limp and helplessly by her side, and she knew it was broken.
“Well, we must hurry out of the car, for it is filling with smoke, and I fear has taken fire somewhere,” she said.
They were just turning to leave the place when, from the very midst of the smoke there pealed forth a heartrending shriek:
“Help! help! Will no one save me?”
Virgie felt every nerve in her body creep at the sound.
“Oh, some poor creature is there, and will be burned to death if help does not come. What shall we do?” she cried.
Clearly Mina could do nothing with her broken arm, for she was moaning with every breath, and there was no one else at hand; every one who was able had deserted the car long since, and was either looking out for number one or assisting others elsewhere; but Virgie felt that she could not leave the sufferer, whoever it might be, to the terrible fate of being burned to death.
She helped Mina from the car, told her where she would find little Virgie, and then she flew back to find the origin of that pitiful cry for help.
“Where are you?” she called, as she groped her way toward the spot from whence it had seemed to proceed.
“Here. Oh! come quickly! I am almost suffocated! I shall be burned alive!” was the agonized response, accompanied by groans of pain.