"The Lord's finger, I reckon," said the engineer. "I swear I saw a light!" and in a few words he told the story.
"I SAY, YOU PEOPLE, THERE'S A DEAD MAN OR SOMETHING HERE IN THE ROAD."
A group of passengers had surrounded the heap of boards, ore, iron wheels, and axles. The head-light of the switch engine had gone out in the jar, and there was not a face shown in the dim rays from the lantern that did not pale.
A drummer in a silk travelling-cap struck a match to light a paper cigarette, but his hand trembled so that he gave up, and sat down on the ties, and mechanically brushed off his shoes with his pocket-handkerchief as if it were dusty and broad daylight.
Another whistle sounded up the grade.
"There's no train due," said the curly-headed young brakeman who had come up with another lantern on his arm. A large crowd of the passengers of No. 44 accompanied him.
"I presume likely that's the wrecking-train," said the engineer, "come down to pick you fellows up."
"Get up the track and flag her, Billy! Jump quick!" ordered the conductor.
The brakeman started on a run. As he passed the grade crossing he shouted back,