Meanwhile the thunder of the spoil train had grown louder. The scrunch of steel tyres on the rails, and the grinding of the flanges of the wheels against the edges of the track drowned every other sound, even the singing which Jim's tumble had brought to his ears. The runaway, with all its impetus and weight rushing forward to destroy all that happened to be in its path, was within a yard of the points when our hero threw his weight on the lever. The leading wheels struck the points with violence, and Jim, watching eagerly, saw the rims mount up over the crossway. Then the bogie frame jerked and swung to the right, while the four wheels obeyed the direction of the points and ran towards the side track. But it was when the first half of the leading car had passed the points that the commotion came. The dead weight of the contents--projected a moment earlier directly forward--were of a sudden wrenched to one side. The strain was tremendous. Something was bound to give way under it, or the car would capsize. As it happened, the wreck was brought about by a combination of movements. The front bogie of the truck collapsed, the wheels being torn from their axles. At the same moment the huge mass capsized, flinging its load of rock and dirt broadcast across the track. The noise was simply deafening, while a huge dust cloud obscured the actual scene of the upset from those who were looking on. But Jim could see. As he clung to the lever he watched the first truck come to grief in an instant. After that he himself was overwhelmed in the catastrophe; for the remaining trucks piled themselves up on the stricken leader. The second broke its coupling and mounted on the first; while the third, deflected to one side, shot past Jim as if it were some gigantic dart, and swept him and the lever away into space. The remainder smashed themselves into matchwood, all save five in rear, which, with retarded impetus, found only a bank of fallen dirt and rock that broke the collision and left them shaking on the track. When the onlookers raced to the spot, and the people aboard the passenger train joined them, there was not a sight of the young fellow who had controlled the inspection car and had saved a disastrous collision. "Guess he's buried ten feet deep beneath all that dirt and stuff," said one of the men, gazing at the ruin. "I seed him run to the lever. Run, did I say? He jest rolled, that's what he did. He war just in time, though, and then, gee! there war a ruction. I've seen a bust-up on a railway afore, but bless me if this wasn't the wildest I ever seed. Did yer get to the telephone?" His comrade reassured him promptly. "I rung 'em up at Gorgona," he answered. "There's a dirt train coming along with the ambulance and Commission doctor aboard, besides a wrecking derrick. That young chap saved a heap of lives you'd reckon?" It was in the nature of a question, and the answer came from the first speaker speedily.