ecting that the outward and
visible signs of authority might save time and questions, he thought
better of it. Patting his pocket to make sure that his necessary
notebook and pencil were there, he set out at a moderate, even,
springless lope. He had no mind to reach a scene which might require his
best qualities of mind and body, in a semi-exhausted state.
Nevertheless, laden as he was, he made the three miles in less than half
an hour. Let no man who has not tried to cover at speed the ribbed
treacheries of a railroad track minimize the achievement!

A sharp curve leads to the entrance of Rock Cut. Running easily,
Banneker had reached the beginning of the turn, when he became aware of
a lumbering figure approaching him at a high and wild sort of
half-gallop. The man's face was a welter of blood. One hand was pressed
to it. The other swung crazily as he ran. He would have swept past
Banneker unregarding had not the agent caught him by the shoulder.

"Where are you hurt?"

The runner stared wildly at the young man. "I'll soom," he mumbled
breathlessly, his hand still crumpled against the dreadfully smeared
face. "Dammum, I'll soom."

He removed his hand from his mouth, and the red drops splattered and
were lost upon the glittering, thirsty sand. Banneker wiped the man's
face, and found no injury. But the fingers which he had crammed into his
mouth were bleeding profusely.

"They oughta be prosecuted," moaned the sufferer. "I'll soom. For ten
thousan' dollars. M'hand is smashed. Looka that! Smashed like a bug."

Banneker caught the hand and expertly bound it, taking the man's name
and address as he worked.

"Is it a bad wreck?" he asked.

"It's hell. Look at m'hand! But I'll soom, all right. _I_'ll show'm ...
Oh! ... Cars are afire, too ... Oh-h-h! Where's a hospital?"

He cursed weakly as Banneker, without answering, re-stowed his packet
and ran on.

A thin wisp of smoke rising above the nearer wall of rocks made the
agent set his teeth. Throughout his course the voice of the engine had,
as it were, yapped at his hurrying heels, but now it was silent, and he
could hear a murmur of voices and an occasional shouted order. He came
into sight of the accident, to face a bewildering scene.

Two hundred yards up the track stood the major portion of the train,
intact. Behind it, by itself, lay a Pullman sleeper, on its side and
apparently little harmed. Nearest to Banneker, partly on the rails but
mainly beside the