Part 5 (1/2)

”I must be. I can't stand up, I'm so weak,” he answered faintly.

”Have ye been drinkin'?” Her eyes snapped as she asked the question.

”I've taken a little, because I'm ill, but-- Heavens, woman! what is the time?” he almost shrieked.

”It's about nine o'clock,” she answered.

”Nine,” he spoke as if struggling with a failing memory. ”The switch is wrong, and there's a gravel train on the sidetrack. G.o.d! Mistress McVeigh, help me to get up.” He tottered to his feet, groping for the door like a blind man, and then Nancy caught him in her strong arms and laid him back on the bed.

”Jennie, Mr. Moore's sick. Ye'll attend to him,” she called, as she threw a heavy shawl over her head.

If those who doubted Nancy's unselfish heart and courage could have seen her plodding through the darkness, with the rain pelting down upon her, and the mud halfway to her knees, they might have forgiven much that they had believed against her. She knew the turnings of the switches and the different tracks, and it was to save Moore from disgrace, rather than to avert a disaster, that caused her to tax her old bones to their utmost, as she climbed over the fences and ran across the fields. A whistle sounded far over on the town side, and she was conscious of a dull throbbing in the air. Foot by foot she counted her chances, listening to the approaching train and exerting herself to the limit. The headlight of the locomotive was glaring at her as she climbed the sandy embankment of the track, and then, as her hands closed over the lever, the great machine went thundering by over the wrong rails. The engineer evidently had read that the signals were somewhat amiss, for his air brakes were already screaming, and he was leaning far out of his cab with his hand shading his eyes. The sand cars were a short distance up the track, and the moving train struck them with a terrific rending of iron and hissing of escaping steam.

The force of the contact was lessened because of the sudden slowing up of No. 4, but it was sufficient to send two of the pa.s.senger coaches tumbling on to the boggy earth six or eight feet below the track level.

The engine stood still on the rails in a cloud of steam, and the engineer was out of his cab limping towards Nancy before her mind had regained its normal conception of things. His appearance roused her to instant action. She made no explanations, nor were any questions asked of her, but the two of them ran to where the crying of pain-stricken humanity came from the derailed cars. A chaos of confusion reigned.

People who were not hurt were shouting hysterically, others were making efforts to liberate the wounded. Nancy was strangely cool. She sent one to the tavern to summon help, another to the Junction to telegraph into town for doctors, and then she turned to those in the wreckage.

One after another was extricated from the ma.s.s, and as they came before her on the wet gra.s.s, where coats and everything that could be found were used to lay them upon, she examined their hurts, bound up bleeding cuts, and did all that her knowledge could suggest. Soon a crowd from the neighborhood gathered and they joined in the work, and then the doctors came. By this time a second woman was helping by Nancy's side.

The old inn-keeper paused once to see who it was, and nodded in recognition.

”It's a sad business, Miss Piper,” she remarked, huskily.

Soon a long procession slowly wound its way across the fields to the tavern, men carrying those unable to walk, and the others who were not so badly hurt leaning on the shoulders of their companions. Nancy and Miss Piper went with the first to prepare beds and other necessaries, and all that night the two women stayed by their grim task.

”You should be a nurse,” young Dr. Dodona observed to Sophia Piper, during a moment's respite.

”I would, gladly, if I had that woman to help me,” she answered, and they both turned to watch Nancy, who was deftly binding a fresh bandage on the crushed leg of an elderly gentleman who seemed more concerned over the soiling of his clothes than his wound.

”Are you tired, Mrs. McVeigh?” she asked, kindly.

Nancy only smiled back a reply, and bent her grey head over her patient again.

Thirteen slightly injured, three seriously, and no deaths, was the result of the accident, and after a few days everything at the Junction was as it had been always, excepting that Nancy McVeigh's tavern had won a new guest and lost an old one. Moore had recovered from his attack a few hours after his seizure, and was taken into custody by the law to stand his trial for wilful neglect of duty, and Mr. Lawrence Hyden lay in his room with a very impatient temper and a badly crushed leg. The Wednesday of the following week was set as the day for Moore's trial, and Nancy received a summons to appear as a witness.

”I'll do that with pleasure, sure, fer it's meself that's doubtin' the senses of yon pack o' lawyers. It's jist capital they are tryin' to make out o' this affair to injure me in the eyes of the Commissioners, I'm thinkin',” she said, when the blue paper was handed to her.

The scene in the courtroom was highly interesting to her, and she wondered, as she listened to the learned talking, how their charge against Moore could have any foundation. When her name was called she was fully prepared to give them all a piece of her mind.

”Now, Mrs. McVeigh, the whole case against Mr. Moore rests on your testimony. We want to know from you if the accused was addicted to the use of liquor,” the presiding counsel asked, in suave tones.

”He was not, yer wors.h.i.+p,” she answered, promptly.

”But one witness states that liquor was found in the accused man's room, and also that his breath was strongly tainted shortly after the time of the accident,” the counsel continued.

The whole truth of the misunderstanding suddenly came home to Nancy, and after some bickering between the lawyers, she was allowed to narrate, in her own homely way, the current of events from the first time she had noticed the illness coming over Mr. Moore, until she had stood by the switch watching the train going to destruction. Every man in the room had heard somewhat of Nancy's peculiar existence, and they listened with doubly aroused interest to her simple tale. Suddenly an interruption came from a very unexpected quarter. Moore was swaying unsteadily, and but for the timely arm of the officer near him, would have collapsed on the floor. The court immediately adjourned whilst a doctor was sent for.

”There'll be no case, Mrs. McVeigh. It is clear in my mind that the prisoner is a very sick man and should be sent at once to the hospital.

If I have my way the verdict of this examination will be a testimonial of some substantial nature to be given to a very generous-hearted old lady,” the counsel said, shaking her hand warmly.