DOWN THE EMBANKMENT.

Auckland Star, Volume XXXVI, Issue 276, 18 November 1905, Page 11

DOWN THE EMBANKMENT.

A THRILLING STORY OF LOTS A_nD

HEROISM IN A RAILROAD WRECK.

By E_LIOTT WALKER.

Wayne could not move his head, or any portion of his body, except one arm —the right.

As in a vice he lay streteheG, timberbound and helpless, but unhurt, his Eyes staring through the clean hole before him, out into the grey, dreadful dawn.

''They'll reach mc in time," he muttered. "I'm safe enough. I'll quit calling: it hurts my chest to expand. Tliank Heaven, those cries are ceasing. Chopped the poor devils out, I guess. Nice mix-up, this. I shot clear across the sleeper before she turned over. Mighty uncomfortable, but I'm all right, barring bruises and a dizzy noddle. Say, something is burning!"'

He sniffed with a groan of sudden nor ror.

From the curl of smoke circling from tbe wreckage behind him a little red crumb danced gaily up on the shattered roof, paused, gleamed, faded, glowed again, then roned down and fell bitingly on Murray Wayne's nose. There was just enough tilt to the end of this prominent feature for the dying spark to catch and linger; only for a few seconds, but it stung the man's senses to a horrible apprehension. Fire! Was he to be burned alive in this fearful trap ?

His free hand could not reach his face. To slide it out in front, under the beam, was all he could do. Instinctively the broad palm moved along beneath the pinioned head. Wayne's nose wriggled vigorously. The spark fell on the outstretched fingers. They snapped it away. "I wonder what is under mc," gruntad the man. "My nose is outbids. I can look down and up. A blanket or something inflammable just below would fix mc in a hurry, once that little devil lodged iv it." His eyes craned downward. "Lord,'' he whispered, in dismay. "There's a mat—a blamed, yellow—no. it moved—it's h_ir — it's a head—a child's. Curse it all! can't I wrench out of this?'' A fierce, straining, exhausting, useless struggle! Wayne relaxed, gasping. A dreamy dizziness clouded his brain. Where was he? Wasn't he lying on the big rock by the spring with the hot sun on his neck, reaching down to pat Matties hair, all he could see of his tittle playmate;—that yellow head in the shade of the boulder?" Yes, thai was Matties hair, fluffy and golden, and that murmuring sound was the brook. How the men were shouting in the hayfield—and some one was screeching—probably Johnny Grout; be was forever bawling. Never mind: Mattie liked him better than Johnny, and he was having a happy time, only the sun was awfully hot "on his bare feet. There was one of those nasty red flies; it would sting Mattie. He must grab it. Ah! good catch. Awl "Mattie!" he shouted, "look out. I'm stung like sixty. There's a lot of 'em coming. I'll keep 'era off." The quick pain dissipated his chimera as a flash-light illuminates a darkened room. Now he knew where he was—-a desperate man, pinioned in a railroad wreck, catching the rolling sparks with his one poor hand, his jaw set. his brow knit in fierce resolve, trying to save this helpless creature from "the cruel bits of fire. He would do it! Until the anguish broke his brain. Help must come soon. The child should be saved. Was it badly hurt? He would try to cheer it. "Mattie." The name came unthinkingly. Wayne's voice was high with pain, unlike a man's. "Are you all right?" "Mamma"—a weak, pitiful wail—"«_t mc out." Another spark. Wayne clutched it fiercely, extinguished it, cast it from him with a muscular finger twitch. "There's something holding mc. mamma. Mamma Hapgood. why don't you come ? Mattie wants to get out." Mamma. Hapgood! Mattie? Good God in Heaven! It was her baby! "Pretty soon, dear." There were great tears in Wayne's husky tone. Another spark—a big one. The man's teeth gnashed. A puff of smoke blew over his head. "Help. Help! Quick!" Ah! that hnrt, that full intake of breath, but it was a ringing shout. "Call again," came a voice from somewhere. "Where are you?" "Here! Here! Hurry!" The words tortured. "I see him, boys. What's he doing? Catching that ember, by all that's holy. Pull in your hand, you crazy fool! Swing that hose round, Jaor.! Get your saws going! Give mc the fire-axe! Now! with a will, boys." Wayne's call was a scream. "Save that child just below mc. I can wait. I'm—all—right——"

'"Yes, he is," grunted one of the rescuers, as he pulled on the unconscious form. 'Look at his hand. I see what Ke done it for. Carry him tender, fellers. Big chap, but two of us can handle iihu. For such a smash as this, it's a wonder no one was killed. Plenty of broken bones, though. The kid's not even scratched. See. she can walk."

'"'There's a woman wild and crazy up at the farmhouse, who has lost one," said another. "Maybe it's hers. Take both of 'em there, Tom."

"Lie still, sir," cautioned an elderly man, sitting by Wayne's bedside. 'It's the doctor's orders. You are not to stir until he aces you again. A bad hand youwe got, and youVe been off your head for hours. Don't talk. 11l do the talking if there is anything to telL"

,c Where is she J" asked Murray, anxiously. "Was she injured?"

"Your wife? No, left wrist sprained, and some bumps, but she went on the train they made up at the Junction-— she and the little girl. Left a letter foryou and said you would understand. When she got through cryirr' over yon, she handaged jour burns herself. Neat job, too. Guess every one in this home

knows your name is Murray and hers is Mattie, but you didn't sense what yon were saynr*, of course. She was hysterical some of the time, but calmed do—nt Pretty woman you've got, Mister, and sweet little girl; but she only came in to kiss you good-bye. The child waMrt hurt any. Those men that took you out say she'd have sure been burnt if a spark had lit on. her. There's been considerable said about what you did. Must have been hot work, eh?"

The garrulous fanner paused, gazing interestedly at his patient. "My name's Wingfield," he remarked. "I own this place. Reason I_ tendta* you is this. She gave mc twenty dollars to see that you have every possible attention and you're getting it. Doctor Ha gar got 30 dollars to mend you up. Between us I calculate you'll come out better than ever. Going to sleep again? That's proper. Your wife said—"

Wayne shut him off with a gesture from his well fcand, turning a hard face with closed eyes, to the wall.

"His wife!" Oh! mockery of mockeries! Verily, Mattie Starr might have been Mrs Wayne; would be to-day, had not rich old Gideon Hapgood stepped in to avert family misfortune—for a valuable consideration. Abner Starr had "gone on" with his business. His daughter made a fine match, no doubt, but—the world has a '•"but" for every act. Well did Murray Wayne remember the voiced sentiment of the' neighbourhood. "Pretty tough on Murray Wavne."

Perhaps it was equally "tough" on Marfcilda Starr.

Little tots playing in the sunshine, boy and girl walking hand in hand, youth and maiden shyly affectionate, taking a growing love for granted, the man 'waiting for improved conditions to give him permission to speak bis heart, the girl beautiful and sweet in her patience—then, looming, financial disaster and an anxious house.

Preseutly opportunity for a straightening of unhappy money entanglements. Mattie went to Bermuda on her wedding trip. Wayne struck out into the world.

Ten years ago that was. and be had tried hard to forget. Success had been his. but the woman to share it was yet to be found. He had thought too much and too long of Mattie Starr. That tt_ their little story. Such tates would till volumes, these long-past incidents, over which gTown people smile and then become suddenly grave and reflective.

Alas: fcr Murray Wayne, weak and suffering, it was worse than ever, as he lay with shut eyes, seeing visions. Wept over him, had she, and called him "Murray"? Oh, well, that was natural, but it did not bring her back. Her letter —a few words of thanks, of course. "By and by FU look at it." he decided.

•Tunny mistake these folks have made. I suppose she forgot to''give her name. I wish I might have seen her—no, 1 don't, either.

"Paid to have mc eared for. Pshaw: I don't like that. Thoughtful, but I can settle my old bills. Old Hapgood'?; mouev. It will be refunded."

So, lying there, he rambled peevishly, while through his still weak brain danced maddening recollections of the dreadful early hours of this day—the shock, the crash, the sickening, rolling tumble down the declivity, cries, groans, shouts, the sounds of rescue, his own futile struggle, that devilish spark, the soft yellow head, the blistering torture—now this:

Her child! Did he really save that little one? Wayne smiled at last. It was good to think of it. What' had he said in those delirious after-moments? Would he ever know!

'•"My letter." came his impatient demand. "You may leave mc for a while, Wingfield. ITI hi qniei."

The rough. grey-whiskered nurse grinned amiably, producing an envelope. "FIl slit it open for you." he announced, "and then I won't mind stretching my legs a bit."

Alone, Wayne, with a curious thrill at sight of the once familiar writing, glued his gaze on the hasty words. The 3 were few: —

"Dear," the note ran, "I am forced to leave you among strangers, -while long ing so to stay that I might thank you with all my heart. Did you mean it, Murray—what you said? I thought you knew mc. Is it true? If so, come. I— but you will understand; my train is waiting. Mattie."

Wayne's left hand, liolding the letter, pressed hard on his forehead. He did not understand. What had he said? Tome where? Her destination? He knew naught of it. There was no address. And why should he go if he possessed the information?

Yet the blood tingled through him, snd he kissed the paper, over and over passionately. Her hand had been on it. Wherever she was he would find her. She had bid him come, if it were "true."' Of course it must be true, that which he had spoken in his wildness and agony. Madness, perchance, for them both, but he should see her.

Wayne leaped from the bed with a quick strength.

"Where's my clothes f* he shouted. "Fm going."

'•'Going t© get right back into that bed," commanded tbe wary Wingfield, darting in. "Be a good boy,"now. Loony again. I sec. As for your clothes, there's a pair of breeches and a shirt and drawers—all you had on—so you can't go visiting-"

"Oh!" Murray laughed weakly.- "I'll do as you say. Yes. I'm loony, f guesg." "Too much letter, I suppose," observed the other, inquisitively. "Well, don't worry about 'em. Your wife got all her things—trunks and two grips." "That's it," whispered Wayne, sinking back on the pillows. Iwas agitated on that score. All right, now, old man."

Ten long days ere a pale man, with one arm in a sling, and clad in a readymade suit, put out his left hand to Hiram Wingfield.

"Good-by," said the farmer. "Til be glad to go hayin' for a change. Tell your wife I earned the money?' Wayne winced and smiled. "As soon as I reach bar," he said. t

"Five minutes to train-rime," observed the other. "Take it easy. Let's see—got everything? By jimmy! I clean forgot to give yon this newspaper clipping. She left It out of her letter in the scrabble. No harm done, I guess. Here!"

Wayne glanced at the rumpled scrap, and turned ■white.

"What's up?" asked his host, anxiously. "A man I knew is dead." Wayne's voice was thick. "Died suddenly. Colorado Springs. Buried the 19th: that was last Friday. His residence is 210 Labyrinth Aye." He was reading mechanically, with strangely lighted eyes.

"Too had!" commiserated Mr Wingfield. "I see it hits you hard. Probably she cut it out, seeing the name, and forgot to give it to you. Women is so forgetful. Hold "onl WhaVs the baste?"

Far his guest —»s

The" ticket agent at the Junction stac tion stared at the unusual request. "Colorado Springs? Yes, sir. I think I can fix yon out. You're one of the passengers that went down the embankment. A good way from home, eh;? There you are, sir-"

Three days later Wayne told this to a slender woman in black, who looked very happy for one so recently bereaved

"I was in a hurry to get home, Mattie," he smiled.

Mrs Hapgood rested her golden head on the arm which had protected. "I'm afraid it's wicked to say that I was in a hurry to have you," she murmured. "You're sure you meant all yon said, Murray?" "Every single word," declared Wayne. "When the year is up, 111 say it all over again."

His head bent to hers.

"If I can remember it," he added, nlavfoils. J