it gets tuned up," said Mr. Devlin. "It hasn't had a chance
to get the burs out of its throat. It will be very fine as soon as the
engine-man knows how to manage it."

"Yes," said Ruth, interposing, "a little toning down would do it
good--it is shaking the windows in your office; feel this platform
tremble!"

"Well, I bargained for a big whistle and I've got it: and I guess
they'll know if ever there's a fire in the town!" Just as he said this,
Roscoe gave a cry and pointed.

We all turned, and saw a sight that made Ruth Devlin cover her face with
her hands and Mrs. Falchion stand horror-stricken. There, coming
down the cable with the speed of lightning, was the cage. In it was a
man--Phil Boldrick. With a cry and a smothered oath, Mr. Devlin sprang
towards the machinery, Roscoe with him. There was nobody near it, but
they saw a boy whose duty it was that night to manage the cable, running
towards it. Roscoe was the first to reach the lever; but it was too
late. He partially stopped the cage, but only partially. It came with a
dull, sickening thud to the ground, and Phil Boldrick--Phil Boldrick's
broken, battered body--was thrown out.

A few minutes later Boldrick was lying in Mr. Devlin's office.

Ill luck for Viking in the hour of her success. Phil's shattered hulk is
drifting. The masts have gone by the board, the pilot from the captain's
side. Only the man's "unconquerable soul" is on the bridge, watching
the craft dip at the bow till the waters, their sport out, should hugely
swallow it.

We were all gathered round. Phil had asked to see the lad who, by
neglecting the machinery for a moment, had wrecked his life. "My boy,"
he said, "you played an ugly game. It was a big mistake. I haven't
any grudge agen you, but be glad I'm not one that'd haunt you for your
cussed foolishness.... There, now, I feel better; that's off my mind!"

"If you're wanting to show remorse or anything," he continued, "there's
my friend, Mr. Roscoe, The Padre--he's all right, you understand!--Are
you there?... Why don't you speak?" He stretched out his hand. The lad
took it, but he could not speak: he held it and sobbed.

Then Phil understood. His brow wrinkled with a sudden trouble. He said:
"There, never mind. I'm dying, but it isn't what I expected. It doesn't
smart nor tear much; not more than river-rheumatism. P'r'aps I wouldn't
mind it at all if I could see."

For Phil was entirely blind now. The accident had destroyed his
r