Adventure stories; Air pilots -- Fiction; Floods -- Fiction; Short stories; United States -- Fiction
“Now, Mister,” he told the agent, when the man returned, “we’re going to
load this car with ties so the tops of them are out of water, and we’re
going after those men! Are you good at pushing?”
In spite of his objections and his insistence that it could not be
accomplished, the agent helped Nick pile two layers of ties upon the
hand-car, and together they pushed it up the main track toward the
wreck. It was, at best, a slow progress that they made; at times the
water rose so high that it floated the ties, and when that occurred one
of them climbed up upon the stack and weighted it down. They pushed
through cuts and over fills, all of them invisible under the murky
water, and after forty minutes arrived at the rear of the caboose.
Two of the men who had waved to Nick were standing on the platform of
the car waiting for him. One of them wore the cap of a railroad
conductor; the other was dressed in business clothes.
“You the doctor?” Nick asked the latter, and without awaiting a reply
added: “I landed my ship at McLearson. As soon as we get the men on
board it I’ll have them to a hospital in Little Rock within forty-five
minutes--or kill them trying to get off the ground.”
Doctor Matthies, a short, stumpy man, still very wet from his walk
through the water from town, introduced himself.
“We’d kill the brakeman if we tried to take him to town on a hand-car
through this water,” he said. “We thought of trying that, but he’s too
weak to be moved with safety. He ought to be in a hospital--quickly; but
we can’t take him there on any hand-car!”
“That’s what I been a-tellin’ him all the way out here!” the station
agent said resentfully. “But he don’t seem like one to--”
“Shut up!” Nick barked. “Doctor Matthies, I landed just as close to the
wreck as I could get. This hand-car is the only way to get the men to my
ship. If the brakeman can’t be moved, suppose you stay here with him and
I’ll take the others to town. I’ve got to hurry--it’ll be dark in a
little while and I’ll have--”
A woman’s wail inside the caboose startled him. He heard the groans of
one of the injured men.
“What the hell!” he ejaculated. “Is a woman out here too?”
“The brakeman’s daughter,” Doctor Matthies replied. “She came out with
me as soon as we got word. Couldn’t keep her at home--insisted on
coming. She waded out through that water right behind me!”
* * * * *
Just at that moment the girl came to the doorway of the car and stood, a
handkerchief clutched in her hands, looking at the four men. She was
sobbing brokenly; there was about her a note of tragedy, Nick thought,
but at the same time fortitude. Through tear-filled eyes she looked
quickly from one man to the other.
“Can’t you do _something_?” she choked. “Don’t just let him lie there
like that and suffer and--and--”
“We’ll do everything we can, Miss Richardson,” Doctor Matthies assured
her gravely. “Try not to worry about your father.” He went with her back
into the car.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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