MINING FOR THE DEAD.
A few minutes after this, as Mr. Flinn was drinking some black coffee and eating some hard crackers and cheese, two workmen came up to him and commenced to complain because they did not have soup and meat.
This enraged Mr. Flinn and after telling them that he thought he was used to as good as they were, he ordered the guards to take the men out of town and not permit them to come back again. This seemed to have the desired effect and there was no more trouble.
It had been known for several days that the Rev. J. A. Ranney and the parents of Mrs. Charles Harly, of Delhi, Ind., were on one of the ill-fated trains overtaken by the flood in Conemaugh Valley, and no tidings could be received from them.
THE ARREST OF THE HUNS FOR ROBBING THE DEAD.
Word comes that Mr. Ranney has arrived home. He telegraphs: “Mrs. Ranney and I were on the train at Conemaugh when the flood came. The occupants of our car rushed for the door, where Mrs. Ranney and I became separated. She was one of the first to jump, and I saw her run and disappear behind the houses in sight. Before I could get out the deluge was too high, and with a number I remained in the car. Our car was lifted up and dashed against a car loaded with stone, and was badly wrecked, but most of the occupants were saved. As far as I know all who jumped from the car lost their lives. The rest of the train was swept away. I searched for days for Mrs. Ranney and could find no trace of her. I think she perished. The mind cannot conceive the awful sight presented when we first saw the danger. The approaching wall of water looked like Niagara, and huge engines were caught up and whirled away as if they were mere wheelbarrows.”
SEEKING RELIEF AT HEADQUARTERS.
Here is another telegram: “Mrs. Susan Stonebraker with her three children, arrived at Camden Station, Baltimore, Md., from Johnstown this afternoon, and was met by her brothers.