beside a crooked rail. An old horse,
with traces hanging and harness a wreck, stands snorting beside the boy.

"Donny! Donny! Why, my sonny boy!"

The crowd parts for a thin, white-faced man,--the passenger who had been
heard to say upon the way, "My little son is coming to meet me. I hope
these shocks do not extend to the Summerville station."

There is one other little wild call, "Papae! Papae!"--a tremendous effort
to be manly, and not cry before strangers--and the boy melts into his
father's arms, and wonders whose tears they are which rain upon his
cuddling face.

[Illustration: "PAPAe! PAPAe!"]

But who saved the train? Where is he? How did he do it? Who took that
noble risk? Where is the hero? Here?

"_You_, my lad?"

Then Donny raised his awestruck face from his father's quick-beating
heart, and standing among the strangers and the neighbors, told the
story,--all that he knew; all that he could tell.

[Illustration: "A LITTLE HUDDLING FIGURE."]

"I only remembered the torpedoes, sir. The old man did the rest."

"What old man? Where is he?"

"Why, the old colored man! Haven't you seen him? The old colored man who
ran ahead and put them on the track. _He_ saved the train."

The engineer took his lantern and silently went back and swung the spot
of fire in the black, cold air. It had not rained, as we have said, for
many weeks, but his feet splashed into deep pools and running rivulets,
and sank into crevices and gashes in the trembling earth.

A few of the passengers followed the engineer. The locality where the
train stood was examined thoroughly. Again, the same result,--no human
creature, dead or living, was to be seen. The pauper dog sat just where
they had left him. The engineer went up and patted him. At the touch he
fell over--dead of fright.

They returned to report what they had found. As they did so, they called
and shouted into the darkness, seeking for the brave life that had saved
their own. Only the roar of the earthquake answered them.

"But he _must_ be there!" cried the lad, "of course he's there. He's a
very shabby old Negro. He is all patches and his knees and hair stick
out. His hat looked like a coon-skin hat. His hair is gray hair. He
carries a little bundle on his shoulder. He's a very strong old Negro.
He smashed the station in like--like blocks. He was a slave, and he was
so strong he cost two thousand dollars. He's going to see his
daughter in Branchville. She's dying. H