were screaming
in pain and panic. Only one, Hunt, was dressed throughout in uniform.

The steward of the diner, nearly suffocated before being dragged out of
his berth, was making vain effort to shove a way back into the blazing
car, crying that all his money was under that pillow. But it was
impossible to stem the torrent of human forms.

The instant the train stopped, the flames shot upward through the
skylight and ventilator, and then the voice of Connelly was heard
yelling for aid. Seizing a blanket that had been dragged after him by
some bewildered recruit, and throwing it over his head and shoulders,
Stuyvesant, bending low, dove headlong into the dense wall of smoke.

The flames came leaping and lapping out from the door-way the instant he
disappeared, and a groan of dismay arose from the little group already
gathered at the side of the track. Five, ten seconds of awful suspense,
and then, bending lower still, his loose clothing afire, his hair and
eyebrows singed, his face black with soot and smoke and seared by flame,
the young officer came plunging forth, dragging by the legs a prostrate,
howling man, and after them, blind and staggering, came Connelly.

Eager hands received and guided the rescuers, leading them into the
diner, while the trainmen worked the stiff levers, broke loose the
coupling, and swung their lanterns in frantic signals to the engineer,
far ahead.

Another moment and the blazing car was drawn away, run up the track a
hundred yards, and left to illumine the night and burn to ashes, while
male passengers swarmed about the dining-car, proffering stimulant and
consolation.

Besides Stuyvesant and Corporal Connelly, two soldiers were seriously
burned. Every stitch of clothing not actually on their persons at the
moment of their escape was already consumed, and with it every ounce of
their soldier rations and supplies.

The men least injured were those who, being nearest the rear door, were
first to escape. The men worst burned were those longest held within the
blazing car, barring one, Murray, whom Hunt had thoughtfully bound hand
and foot as he slept, reasoning that in that way only might his
guardians enjoy a like blessing.

Connelly had tripped over the roaring bully as he lay on his back in the
aisle. Stuyvesant had rushed in, and between them they dragged him to a
place of safety. There, his limbs unbound, his tongue unloosed, Murray
indulged in a blast of malediction on the road