"They hear us! They hear us!" he cried once more, in a tremor of
excitement. "I don't think they're far off. They're coming rapidly
towards us."

At the words Elma rose from her seat, still paler than ever, but
strangely resolute, and took the stick from his hand with a gesture
of despair. She was almost stifled. But. she raised it with method.
Knocking the rail twice, she bent down her head and listened in
turn. Once more two answering knocks rang sharp along the connecting
line of metal. Elma shook her head ominously.

"No, no, they're a very long way off still," she murmured, in
a faltering tone. "I can hear it quite well. They can never reach
us!"

She seated herself on a fragment of the broken carriage, and buried
her face in her hands once more in silence. Her heart was full.
Her head was very heavy. She gasped and struggled. Then a sudden
intuition seized her, after her kind. If the rail could carry the
sound of a tap, surely it might carry the human voice as well.
Inspired with the idea, she rose again and leant forward.

A second time she knocked two quick little taps, ringing sharp on
the rail, as if to bespeak attention; then, putting her mouth close
to the metals, she shouted aloud along them with all the voice that
was left her--

"Hallo, there, do you hear? Come soon, come fast. We're alive,
but choking!"