[Illustration: "I saw her staring and her hand pointing at something on the line."] Father was careful commonly, knowing the danger, which he'd sometimes spoken about. But it's hard for a man to be always on the alert, and that day in particular—ah me!—he had his mind full of something else. When I looked, I saw all in an instant. I saw, too, that there was nothing for me to do. A train was coming along the curve from behind us towards the station—one of the fast trains that didn't stop, but ran through. Father was down on the line, just outside the station, calling out something to a man at a little distance from him, on the other side. Father's back was turned to us; and just before I saw him, he had stepped unthinkingly back upon the rails, along which the train was coming. He only had to step forward again, and he was all right. But that was just what he didn't think of doing. I knew in one glance that father didn't see or hear. I saw the man father was speaking to wave his arms, and shout a warning, but father never took in what he meant. I noticed even that the driver and the stoker of the coming engine were doing their best, calling out, and sounding the whistle. But no use. It was all part of what father was always hearing. His mind was off, somewhere else. There wasn't time to stop the train before it must reach him. I knew that. And I knew I could still less get to him; yet I think I screamed, and ran forward. But the rush of the train which he did not notice drowned all else. Mother never stirred, and not another sound came from her. Then— CHAPTER X. SHARP AND SUDDEN. YES; they did their best to stop in time. But it was no use; for the brakes of those days were slow-acting; and before the train could do more than begin to slacken, all was over. The buffer caught him first, and swept him along; and then he was among the cruel wheels; and what they left of him was no longer— father! It couldn't have been more than a moment's shock of pain. Not to him, I mean! But oh, the shock and pain to us who loved him! He was so ready to go. He had loved and lived for his Master for many a year. Not that he was ever much of a talker about religion; but he lived it, which is worth a deal more. I know he was readier for death than we were for the sorrow of losing him. Sunday after Sunday we pray in Church against sudden death. "From sudden death, good Lord, deliver us!" But doesn't sudden death mean death unprepared for? I don't think death can ever be "sudden" in the real sense of the word to those who are ready and waiting. I think the stroke of the buffer, which startled and swept him away, was nothing more nor less to father than just the voice of his Master bidding him "Come Home!" One moment of start and fright, maybe; and then—nothing but joy.