“I'm going to bring every one into these forward cars,” announced the conductor. “It's the only chance of saving a few lives when the crash comes.” “Lives,” moaned Hawkins dazedly. “Is there really any danger of----” The conductor was gone. Hawkins sank upon a seat and gasped and gasped. “Oh, Griggs, Griggs!” he sobbed. “If I had only known! If I could have foreseen this!” “If you ever could foresee anything!” I said bitterly. “But it's partly--yes, it's all that cursed engineer's fault!” People began to troop into the car. They came crushing along in droves, frightened to death, some weeping, some half-mad with terror. Hawkins surveyed them with much the expression of Napoleon arriving in Hades. The conductor approached once more. “They're all in here,” he said resignedly. “Thank Heaven, there are two freight cars on the rear of the train! That may do a little good! But that express! Man, man! What have you done!” “Did he do it? Is it his fault?” cried a dozen voices. “No, no, no, no!” shrieked the inventor. “He's lying!” “You'd better tell the truth now, man,” said the conductor sadly. “You may not have much longer to tell it.” “Lynch him!” yelled some one. There was a move toward Hawkins. I don't know where it might have ended. Very likely they would have suspended Hawkins from one of the ventilators and pelted him with hand satchels--and very small blame to them had there been time. But just as the crowd moved--well, then I fancied that the world had come to an end. There was a shock, terrific beyond description--window panes clattered into the car--the whole coach was hurled from the tracks and slid sideways for several seconds. Above us the roof split wide open and let in the sunlight. Passengers were on the seats, the floor, on their heads! Then, with a final series of creaks and groans, all was still. Hawkins and I were near the ragged opening which had once been a door. We climbed out to the ground and looked about us. Providence had been very kind to Hawkins. The Washington express was standing, unexpectedly, at a water tank--part of it, at least. Her huge locomotive lay on its side. Our two freight cars and two more passenger cars with them were piled up in kindling wood. Even the next car was derailed and badly smashed. The Alcomotive, too, reclined upon one side and blazed merrily, a fitting tailpiece to the scene. But not a soul had been killed--we learned that from one of the groups which swarmed from the express, after a muster had been taken of our own passengers. It was a marvel--but a fact. Hawkins and I edged away slowly. “Let's get out o' this!” he whispered hoarsely. “There's that infernal conductor. He seems to be looking for some one.” We did get out of it. In the excitement we sneaked down by the express, past it, and struck into the hills. Eventually we came out upon the trolley tracks and waited for the car which took us back to Jersey City. Now, there is really more of this narrative.