er 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 mass, and as they came before
her on the wet grass, 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 w