collected to offer assistance, and Edna watched her approaching
deliverers as they cut their way through the wreck and lifted out
the wretched sufferers. Finally two men, with axes in their hands,
bent down and looked into her face.

"Here is a live child and a dead baby wedged in between these beams.
Are you much hurt, little one?"

"Yes, I believe I am. Please take this log off my feet."

It was a difficult matter, but at length strong arms raised her,
carried her some distance from the ruins, and placed her on the
grass, where several other persons were writhing and groaning. The
collision which precipitated the train from trestle-work over a deep
ravine, had occurred near a village station, and two physicians were
busily engaged in examining the wounded. The sun had risen, and
shone full on Edna's pale, suffering face, when one of the surgeons,
with a countenance that indexed earnest sympathy and compassion,
came to investigate the extent of her injuries, and sat down on the
grass beside her. Very tenderly he handled her, and after a few
moments said gently:

"I am obliged to hurt you a little, my child, for your shoulder is
dislocated, and some of the bones are broken in your feet; but I
will be as tender as possible. Here, Lennox! help me."

The pain was so intense that she fainted, and after a short time,
when she recovered her consciousness, her feet and ankles were
tightly bandaged, and the doctor was chafing her hands and bathing
her face with some powerful extract. Smoothing back her hair, he