"You mean the soft sand saved them?"
"Dat's de correctness ob it."
"I think you are right," the old man continued, as he fastened the door securely. "The shock of the sudden stopping of the runaway train, as it reached the end of the siding and crashed into the bank, probably threw the lads up in the air, and they came down in the sliding sand where we found them. Otherwise they would surely have been killed. As it is they have had severe shocks."
"Are dey goin' to die, Perfessor?"
"I hope not, Washington, but I must see to them."
Amos Henderson went over to the bed on which the two boys were stretched out, each with the piece of cotton soaked in the preparation over his mouth and nose.
"I am using a very powerful remedy," the old man muttered. "If they are not too badly hurt they will recover. Ah, yes, there is a little color in their pale cheeks."
He bent over the boys. As he had said, Jack's face was tinged with a light pink, and Mark's eye-lids were moving slightly.
"They are coming around all right," exclaimed the aged professor. "Hurry, Washington, and get some hot beef broth ready. Put the kettle on to boil and make some strong tea. They will want something to eat shortly after they recover their senses."
The colored man, humming softly to himself, began moving about the shed. It was a rough looking place from the outside, but, within, was fitted with many comforts. There was a gasoline stove, a table, several chairs, a bed, and a large case full of books. But the queerest sights of all were on the walls.