“Jennie Nesbitt,” she replied faintly.
“Hi, hi! Mr. Nesbitt!” cried Dick, motioning to the girl’s father.
The gentleman started and paused when he heard his name pronounced.
Looking wildly about he saw Dick signaling to him, and he easily guessed that the recumbent figure in the boy’s arms was his daughter, and he rushed down to the spot.
“Don’t say she is dead!” he exclaimed frantically, the tears streaming down his cheeks. “Jennie, darling, speak to your father!” and he knelt down and seized her nerveless hand.
A cry of pain broke from the girl.
“Are you much hurt, my darling?” asked Mr. Nesbitt, anxiously, taking her in his arms and kissing her tenderly.
“I don’t know, father,” she answered faintly, putting her uninjured arm around his neck. “My left arm is very numb.”
“I should be obliged to you if you would assist me in carrying my daughter up this bank,” said the gentleman to Dick.
Between them they carried her across the tracks and laid her on the faded grass under the trees, where a score or more of the injured had already been placed to await the attention of the physicians that had been telegraphed for.