CHAPTER XXXIII. THE CRASH ON THE RAILROAD.

Taranaki Herald, Volume XLVIII, Issue 11503, 4 July 1900, Page 1 (Supplement)

CHAPTER XXXIII. THE CRASH ON THE RAILROAD.

Meanwhile strange things were happening to Philip Paxton. - - He had occasion one day- to go to Qreenwich on important business for a client, and' as he was anxious to get .back just as soon as possible, ho resolved to goby the underground railroad and return the other way. It was strange, he thought,, that he had planned.it so, and thus run into such risk and trouble. A3 he entered and took his seat in the coach at, the station ( he found thiaj others ia the coippartment — a roan and woman of very reapectable appearance, and with tbem^aa exceedingly bright Jboy qf gerhaps twelve or thirteen years. The man was evidently a mechanic of some sort,'*wjth,an honest, open face, a frank, clear eye, and— wha*; particularly attracted Philip's attention— was most politely attentive to his . wife, who was a delicate, pretty, little woman, wearing the happiest smile that he had ever seen. . The boy was .full of life and happi . ness,^intelligent* beyond his years, and kept asking questions regarding t their trip, which,, apparently, was one ;of -pleasure;' ,that both interested- and amused Philip. <He ..appeared to take no notice of them, but nothing eaicapad bis observation ;'he saw everythinft-r-the kind attentions, of tbe bnsbatfd,to his wife, her happy smile as she raised her eyes to his, and the patient reply of both to their son's questioning, - - , There was no 'sign' of -wealth about them, no attempt at show, but overlook and act betrayed; content and happiness. , „. , „,,,.. >It was a sharp .reminder tc* Philip of t whal^ might »have beee in his own life bat for hia • miserable folly and wilfulness. ••'!.';, .'„.-- Thus .the time passed until, they had nearly reached Greenwich, . where he found _his companions were .also going, when there suddenly smote the air a short, sharp, „ whistle, then followed a' crash -wljioh; made' him feel as if he was beings between a -coiupleTof and he know no .mare until he felt himself being lifted and carried quite a ' distance, and then ■ a^downon. a, board or floor. "Opeaing his eyes, he found he was stretched upon the platform near the ptation where they were about to stop, , and where the, accident had occuned; and. as the.mißt cleared still farther from his brain and sight, he saw a crowd of people, with anxious, scared . faces, .running.to and^fro, carrying lanterns, buckets of water and implements for removing the debrh. 'A little way bacfc he conld see a great mass lying upon the track, and though but dimly- discerning it ia the gloom 0! that underground passage, he knew it was a .portion of the train which had brought him hither. -He had not yet come to himself -enough, to realize whether he was very badly >• injured or not. He bad no strength to move either hand or foot, but be was quite sure tbat no bones were broken, Tbe chief trouble scorned to be ia • hia head, which felt very strangely, for sharp pains kept darting through it, and doyvn the back of hi 3 neck. A:man,pame up to him ]U3tvhen and peered curiously into his face. '< Hump :" he said, with an accent of surprise, " yer cum to, ba yo ! I didn't think; ye ever would when we hauled vb. up, here — tjiought ye bad kicked the bucket, sure." ' Whpthaa happened ?'- Philip asked, .faintly, and ttyiug to raise his baud to aching head. % , ' Switch wor wrong, and there's ben a aruasbup.' . ' Are there many injured V 1 Thank Heaven, no sir ! — though it's a wonder there weren't a bundled or more killed. But it's bad enough at best, sir— a man and woman wor killed outright, and a little boy most done for — thnt wor all, besides yeraelf, sir.' ' A man and womsn and little boy,' Philip repeated, hia mind reverting instantly to' bis companions in whom lie had been so ' interested. " 'Ihey must nave been in the coach with me.' ' They wor, sir ; yo were all snarled in together ; we thought ye wor all dead but the boy, and wo took caie 0' him fnst; poor little shaver 1 It wor a pitiful sight, and ho tried to ba brave when they pulled him from under tho cruel wheel that had crushed hi 3 leg to a jelly ; the look in his eyes and his bitter moans went through me like a kuife, sir, for I've a boy at home just his sia»,'and the maud voice was tram*

uloua and husky as he told his sorrowful tale. ' Poor little fpllow !— where is he now?' Philip asked, striving to lift himEelf to a sitting posture ; but the effort made him faint and eick, while a shower of stars appeared to be hurled into his eyes. ' Don't, sir,' his companion said, kindly, while he threwv'bhe arm about hini to support him. •Ye ain't fit to move yet ; y* have have had a tremendous thump, for we found ye lyin' on yer face, with a great beam across yer neck and head, and I hadn't an idea that there wa3 a spark of life in ye.' • Will you bring me some water V Philip asked, faintly. ' Lord sir, here it are right to hand. I brought it 0' purpose to see what I could, do for you, but forgot all about it when I see your eyes open and you slaring- up at me.' He raided a pitcher to bis lips, and supported his head, while he drank his fill with thirsty eagerness, ' Now pour some over" my head, please. Ah, that is good,' as the man dashed Bomo of the cool liquid over his head, and it seemed to refresh and revive him immediately. % 1 Where is the boy now V he asked after 'a 'moment, his hand still 1 upon the little sufferer. ' In the station yonder.' \ ' Help me to my feet, I want to' go to him,' Philip commanded, and hia good-natured'attendant assisted him to rise. ' • .- . ■ " Bub he swayed dizzily, and' again that shower of stars seemed to almost blind him. ' * . ■" ' Ye'r not fit to stand, sir. Lei me ease ye down again until I can get somo one to help carry ye to the station ,' the man retreated. ' No, no, I will be all right in a minute. There! I am. steadier already. Now we will go on. Slowly, and not without much pain, he made his way to tho station, where on a sittee they had laid a poor little fellow, whom accident had made an orbpan in a moment of time, and probably, also, a cripple for life. A crowd had gathered about him, gazing awe struck and pityingly upon him, while they waited for a surgeon, whom someone bad gone to summon. His young face was ghastly, and gieat drops^of -sweat/ caused by the agony which he was suffering, were rolling off his forehead and beaded his livid lips. Hia clothing was satnrated with blood, which was also dropping and forming small 'pools on the floor. •' As Philip drew near him a look of recognition came into his eyes, and he made a spasmodic gesture with his hard as if to beckon him to his side. He went close to him, and bending over him, took the handktrchief and wiped the moisture from his face. ■ '1 • ' My poor boy, I am sorry to see you so-bady hurt,' he s&id. ■ ' Water/g asped the child. 1 Water,' repeated Philip authorita tirely, and turning to those behind him. A glass was immediately handed to War, and raising his head with as much gentleness as an experienced nurse could have done; he 'held it to his mouth wbi'e he drank greedily. 1 But the effort cost him untold pain, and he moaned pitifully as he was laid back upon the pile of coats which had been formed into a pillow for him. At that moment a brisk wiry man pushed to him. 1 Go out — go out, every ona oE you,' he said, turning around and facing the crowd and speaking with quiet decision. They began to scatter obediently, though reluctantly, for a sort of fisci nation seemed to possess them to stay and view the ghastly horror. Philip also would have withdrawn from the position, but the boy cluug to his hand, which he had grasped in a sort of terror when tho 6urgeon made his appearance. ' Stay — please stay,' be cried in a feeble voice. ' Does he belong to you,' tho surgeon asked. ' No, but I was in the same cirriage at tho time oE the accident, and he seeni3to cling to me.' 'Wy well, stay then. Ah, you were hurt too, eh ?' with a keen glance at his colourless face. ' A trifle ; but never mind me— see wbat you can do for him,' Philip answered. But the surgeon had begun his ex am in at ion almost before he could cease speaking. .^With nimble fingers and a pair of sharp glittering scissors, he <cut away the clothing from tho iujnrod limb, and nothing but the clasp of that small hand oa hia kept Philip from fainting away afc the ghastly sight thus* revealed. The surgeon's own face . grew stern and resolute at th* sig'it ot the work

before him, though his eye was calm, and his hand steady, nor did he make a single false movevent as he examined the cruel hurt to discover the extent of j the injury. But gentle as was his touch, the ordeal was a tearfut one, and the child Screamed and cringed with paiD, but still clinging through it all to Philip whom he seemed instinctively to trust. ' I shall have to give him ether— l can never take up those arteries with him in this state,' the surgeon said in a low tone to him. ' Ie would be a mercy, I think,' 6aid Philip, I ' You will stay ?' asked the boy, with I a closer grip. ' Yes, I will stay, I will not leave you until you are comfortable. He looked relieved, and made no resistance when the surgeon applied the sponge to his nostrils. He knew nothing more till all was over ; which means a good deal, for the bones were so broken that it wa9 fonnd ' necessary to remove it. at the joint, while the taking up of the arteries, the placing and sewing of the bruised and torn flesh was in itself no trifling operation. Bat it was very neatly and quickly done, and when the poor little fellow recovered consciousness he was ready to be removed to more comfortable quarters. 'He must go. to a hospital immediately,' the surgeon said, as he held a strengthening mixture to his lips and told him to drink it, 1 No, not there, 1 he said, with 'a shudder of repulsion. 1 But you will be much better cared ior there than anywhere else,' said .the surgeon.' '' No— not there — mother—fatherhome,' he gasped. The surgeon looked grave, he had been told the ,whole story on bis way hither. ' But my child, they are both injured, and they could not take care of you if you snould go home. He had not the courage to tell him they were dead. ' Oh,' he jnoaned with a frightened look. x> \, - 'Is there anyone else in your house,*' Philip asked. He shook his head, a despairing look in bis eyes. 1 Where do you live ?' ' Clover street, the pale lips whispered. ' Have you any other friends whom you would like to send me for.' Again he shook his head, while great tears gathered in his eyes and rolled down his cheeks. 'No ; father and 'mother weie all,' he Baid. 1 Theu there .is no other way but to send him to the nearest hospital,' the surgeon said. . ' No, no,' repeated the little fellow, to whom the worfl' seemed unaccountably repulsive.'"',.'' r '' Is hospital treatment absolutely necessary V, Philip asked, thoughtfully. ' No, not if he had a good home, and someone to give him proper care,' was the reply. [TO BE CONTINUED.]