m, was jumbled a ridiculous mess of woodwork, with here
and there a gleam of metal, centering on a large and jagged boulder.
Smaller rocks were scattered through the _melange_. It was exactly like
a heap of giant jack-straws into which some mischievous spirit had
tossed a large pebble. At one end a flame sputtered and spread
cheerfully.

A panting and grimy conductor staggered toward it with a pail of water
from the engine. Banneker accosted him.

"Any one in--"

"Get outa my way!" gasped the official.

"I'm agent at Manzanita."

The conductor set down his pail. "O God!" he said. "Did you bring any
help?"

"No, I'm alone. Any one in there?" He pointed to the flaming debris.

"One that we know of. He's dead."

"Sure?" cried Banneker sharply.

"Look for yourself. Go the other side."

Banneker looked and returned, white and set of face. "How many others?"

"Seven, so far."

"Is that all?" asked the agent with a sense of relief. It seemed as if
no occupant could have come forth of that ghastly and absurd
rubbish-heap, which had been two luxurious Pullmans, alive.

"There's a dozen that's hurt bad."

"No use watering that mess," said Banneker. "It won't burn much further.
Wind's against it. Anybody left in the other smashed cars?"

"Don't think so."

"Got the names of the dead?"

"Now, how would I have the time!" demanded the conductor resentfully.

Banneker turned to the far side of the track where the seven bodies lay.
They were not disposed decorously. The faces were uncovered. The
postures were crumpled and grotesque. A forgotten corner of a
battle-field might look like that, the young agent thought, bloody and
disordered and casual.

Nearest him was the body of a woman badly crushed, and, crouching beside
it, a man who fondled one of its hands, weeping quietly. Close by lay
the corpse of a child showing no wound or mark, and next that, something
so mangled that it might have been either man or woman--or neither. The
other victims were humped or sprawled upon the sand in postures of
exaggerated _abandon_; all but one, a blonde young girl whose upthrust
arm seemed to be reaching for something just beyond her grasp.

A group of the uninjured from the forward cars surrounded and enclosed a
confused sound of moaning and crying. Banneker pushed briskly through
the ring. About twenty wounded lay upon the ground or were propped
against the rock-wall. Over them two women were expertly working, one
tiny