The horses swayed and shuddered, screaming with terror.
With one despairing shriek, Bell covered his face.
The swerving wheel caught in the tram-line and then came the end.
CHAPTER XXXV.
As always happens in such cases it was several minutes after the crash before anyone with an ounce of reason in his head appeared on the scene.
Then a fellow—he was in the dog line, “and knew a thing or two”—dropped in and took a rapid and comprehensive view of affairs, and by the help of infinite blasphemy did what was best under the circumstances.
Strange was only stunned. After a time he sat up, and looked about him.
A howl from Bell struck on his ears. He turned and saw the horses shivering among the broken mass of carriage, and the dog-man rubbing their noses to a soft gurgling accompaniment.
“Where, where?” he asked faintly, and in reply to a pointed finger, lifted himself up with both hands, and groped half-blindly to a huddled-up lump of muslin and lace.
He just knew she was lying there, cold, and white, and moveless. He touched her forehead; it was like marble. He laid his hand on her heart; it was still.