Cutler"--the engineer came forward
and knelt by his side--"tell her everything. She knew how he liked me
and a word from him was more----"

His voice faded away.

"I'll tell her," murmured the engineer brokenly, and slipped away in
unbearable distress. The priest looked closer into Tim's face.

"He's going fast," he said, "and I'll ask you all to kneel and say amen
to the last prayers for the boy."

The crowd knelt by the stream in profound silence, and the voice of the
priest rose like splendid music, touching, sad, yet to Horace
unutterably pathetic and grand.

"Go forth, O Christian soul," the Monsignor read, "in the name of God
the Father Almighty, who created thee; in the name of Jesus Christ, Son
of the living God, who suffered for thee; in the name of the Holy Ghost,
who was poured forth upon thee; in the name of the Angels and
Archangels; in the name of the Thrones and Dominations; in the name of
the Principalities and Powers; in the name of the Cherubim and Seraphim;
in the name of the Patriarchs and Prophets; in the name of the holy
Apostles and Evangelists; in the name of the holy Martyrs and
Confessors; in the name of the holy Monks and Hermits; in the name of
the holy Virgins and of all the Saints of God; may thy place be this day
in peace, and thy abode in holy Sion. Through Jesus Christ our Lord.
Amen."

Then came a pause and the heavy sigh of the dying one shook all hearts.
Endicott did not dare to look down at the mournful face of the fireman,
for a terror of death had come upon him, that he should be holding the
head of one condemned to the last penalty of nature; at the same moment
he could not help thinking that a king might not have been more nobly
sent forth on his journey to judgment than humble Tim Hurley. Monsignor
took another look at the lad's face, then closed his book, and took off
the purple ribbon which had hung about his neck.

"It's over. The man's dead," he announced to the silent crowd. There was
a general stir, and a movement to get a closer look at the quiet body
lying on the grass. Endicott laid the head down and rose to his feet.
The woman who had ministered to the dying so sweetly tied up his chin
and covered his face, murmuring with tears, "His poor mother."

"Ah, there is the heart to be pitied," sighed the Monsignor. "This heart
aches no more, but the mother's will ache and not die for many a year
perhaps."

Endicott heard his voice break, and looking saw that the t