Semen gave up his intention of running to the watch-house, turned and ran back quicker than he had come, his head in a whirl; not knowing himself what would happen he ran up to the cut rail: his sticks lay scattered all around. He bent down and took one of the sticks, not understanding himself why he did it; and ran farther. And it seemed to him that the train was already approaching. He heard a far-away whistle, heard the rails begin to quiver measuredly and quietly: he had no more strength left to run. He stopped about seven hundred feet from the fatal spot: suddenly he became illuminated, as it were, by a thought.
He took off his hat, took from it a handkerchief; took out his knife from his boot-leg and crossed himself. God’s blessing!
He slashed his left arm a little above the elbow with his sharp knife; the blood spurted down in a hot stream; he dipped his handkerchief in it, smoothed it out, tied it to his stick, and displayed his red flag.
He stood waving the flag; the train was already in sight. The engineer did not see him, he would come nearer, but at a distance of seven hundred feet he would not be able to stop the heavy train!
And the blood was pouring and pouring—Semen pressed his hand to his side, but the blood would not stop; evidently he had made too deep a cut into the arm; his head was beginning to turn; he was getting dizzy, as if black flies were swimming in his eyes; then everything became altogether dark, and loud bells were ringing in his ears—He no longer saw the train, no longer heard the noise: only one thought predominated: “I will not be able to keep on my feet, will fall down, drop the flag; the train will pass over me?—Dear God, succor, send some one to relieve me—” His soul became a void, and he dropped the flag. But the bloody flag did not fall to the ground: some one’s hand caught it and raised it aloft in front of the oncoming train. The engineer saw him and brought the engine to a stop.
The people came rushing from the train; soon they gathered into a crowd; before them lay a man, unconscious, covered with blood; another man stood beside him with a bloody rag tied to a stick.
Vasili surveyed the crowd and lowered his head.
“Bind me,” he said; “it was I who cut the rail.”
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