"Hullo!" cried the Colonel. "Where's Corporal Wallace?"
And poor, sad-faced Fred, just back from unsuccessful searching, and now kneeling by his mother's side, promptly sprang to his feet and approached his commander.
"What's in those cars at the Amity Works, corporal?
"New wagons, sir. Loaded yesterday and ought to have started last night, but they couldn't get anything out."
"I can't bear to take you away from your mother, my lad, until we hear of your father; but I feel sure, somehow, that he is safe, and the doctors tell me your brother will recover, though he may be laid up some time. It is more than likely we'll be called on for more duty presently, and if we are"—and here he glanced keenly at the young fellow from under the brim of his scouting hat.
"I'm ready, sir," said our corporal, grimly. "I'd welcome a chance," he added, as he glanced back at the group about his brother's battered form, at his mother's white face, and Jessie's weeping eyes; and just then Jim feebly rolled his bandaged head from side to side, and his swollen lips were seen to be striving to form some words. Eagerly the mother bent her ear to catch them. All others ceased their low-toned chat; all eyes seemed fastened on them—anxious mother and stricken son. Only she to whom his earliest baby lispings were intelligible, inexpressible music could understand his meaning now.
"DID FATHER—GET HOME SAFE?"
"Did father—get home safe?"
Then Jessie's sobs broke forth afresh, and a young railway man, whose bruises the surgeon had been dressing, could stand it no longer. He was one of the striking trainmen, and knew Jim well.