Here and there aged and sick folk were being borne in the arms of loved ones or neighbours, although each one rendering such willing service knew that the delay involved was imperilling his own life. Perhaps the saddest sight in the whole sad procession was that of a poor Italian woman, whose little girl had died the previous morning. The father was working in a construction gang several miles away, and the word of the child's death had not yet reached him. When the fire had spread to the humble dwelling, the distracted and sorrow-stricken mother could not endure the thought of leaving her darling to the devouring flames. Tenderly lifting the little one from the casket, she wrapped a shawl around the lifeless form and struggled with her burden alongside of some who knew not what she carried. Cries and prayers in her native tongue were intermingled with her broken English. Walter Nicholson had forgotten for the moment that the previous afternoon he had heard of the poor woman's sorrow and had fully intended to at least call and offer such sympathy and help as was possible. But the call to the fire-fighting had caused everything else to be put aside. When, however, he heard the pathetic wail, "Oh, ma Annetta, ma leetle Annetta," and glanced at the strange-looking bundle the Italian woman was carrying, he at once surmised the meaning of it all. Burdened and anxious though he was, he walked alongside of the lonely mother that he might share her burden also. The sad-eyed woman looked into his face, and in an appealing tone said, "Please not mak' her go from me--ma dear leetle Annetta. Da father, he no come yet. Oh! he must come first!" Walter Nicholson hurriedly readjusted his baggage and then held his baby boy so as to leave his right arm free to give the poor Italian woman such support as was possible. The assistance given was only slight, but his sympathetic words and the touch of his hand soothed a little the aching heart of one who felt that day the loneliness of a bereaved stranger in a strange land. Information was passed through the fleeing crowd that the work-train was taking the people out of danger as rapidly as possible, and that the best course to pursue was to make for the railway station. In any case, the railway track eastward would be the safest highway down the Pass, as the mountain stream two miles away might be reached on foot if necessary. A place of at least temporary protection would be found there.