“Hoffman, are you there?” cried Helen, groping in the gloom, with a thrill of joy at the sound of a familiar voice. “Thank heaven, you are safe. Lie still. I will save you. Help is coming. Have no fear!” panted the voice, with an undertone of fervent gratitude in its breathless accents. “What has happened? Where are the rest?” “We have been thrown down an embankment. The lads are gone for help. God only knows what harm is done.” Karl’s voice died in a stifled groan, and Helen cried out in alarm,— “Where are you? You are hurt?” “Not much. I keep the ruins from falling in to crush us. Be quiet, they are coming.” A shout answered the faint halloo he gave as if to guide them to the spot, and a moment after, five of the students were swarming about the wreck, intent on saving the three whose lives were still in danger. A lamp torn from some demolished carriage was held through an opening, and Helen saw a sight that made her blood chill in her veins. Across her feet, crushed and bleeding, lay the youngest of the students, and kneeling close beside him was Hoffman, supporting by main strength a mass of timber, which otherwise would fall and crush them all. His face was ghastly pale, his eyes haggard with suffering and suspense, and great drops stood upon his forehead. But as she looked, he smiled with a cheery,— “Bear up, dear lady, we shall soon be out of danger. Now, lads, work with a will; my strength is going fast.” They did work like heroes, and even in her pain and peril, Helen admired the skill, energy, and courage of the young men, who, an hour ago, had seemed to have no ideas above pipes and beer. Soon Hoffman was free, the poor senseless youth lifted out, and then, as tenderly as if she were a child, they raised and set her down, faint but unhurt, in a wide meadow, already strewn with sad tokens of the wreck. Karl was taken possession of as well as herself, forced to rest a moment, drink a cordial draught from some one’s flask, and be praised, embraced, and enthusiastically blessed by the impetuous youths. “Where is the boy who was hurt? Bring him to me. I am strong now. I want to help. I have salts in my pocket, and I can bind up his wounds,” said Helen, soon herself again. Karl and Helen soon brought back life and sense to the boy, and never had human face looked so lovely as did Helen’s to the anxious comrades when she looked up in the moonlight with a joyful smile, and softly whispered,— “He is alive.” For an hour terrible confusion reigned, then the panic subsided a little, and such of the carriages as were whole were made ready to carry away as many as possible; the rest must wait till a return train could be sent for them. A struggle of course ensued, for every one wished to go on, and fear made many selfish. The wounded, the women and children, were taken, as far as possible, and the laden train moved away, leaving many anxious watchers behind.