"Chaps," he said at last, "I may as weel tell ye. Muckle Alick at Netherby was killed hauding the points to let by the boat train. And his wee bit wife's a widow the nicht! I hae been at Netherby lettin' a man off to fill his place."
Auld Chairlie dropped the tin platter which was in his hand.
"O Lord," he said, "could ye no hae ta'en ony o' the lave o' us? It wadna hae made so verra muckle differ—But Alick——"
He stood still contemplating the gap that there was in the world.
"That's what they hae been crying at me off the engine the last twa days, but I'm gettin' that deaf I couldna hear!"
But Cleg was prompt in action as ever.
"Guidnicht, lads," he said, "I'm gaun doon to Netherby to see gin I can be ony use."
Poet Jock started up from his bunk, instinctively guarding his head from the roof even in the midst of his distress of mind.
"What hae ye to do wi' it?" he cried, his voice sounding angry, though he was not angry.
"The twa bairns I telled ye aboot are in Muckle Alick's hoose. He saved their lives, and I'm gaun doon the noo to see what I can do for them."