t. A bottle from her bar, standing
on the table, added suspicions to her wrath. Moore did not respond to
her efforts as a healthy man should. Instead he turned a sickly white
face to her and groaned.

"Are ye sick?" she asked.

"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. God! 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 passenger 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
engine