The girl bent over and spoke slowly, distinctly, as one might speak
to a deaf person or a child.

"Listen, Mr. Blakeley," she said earnestly. "You must rouse
yourself. There has been a terrible accident. The second section
ran into us. The wreck is burning now, and if we don't move, we
will catch fire. Do you hear?"

Her voice and my arm were bringing me to my senses. "I hear," I
said. "I--I'll sit up in a second. Are you hurt?"

"No, only bruised. Do you think you can walk?"

I drew up one foot after another, gingerly.

"They seem to move all right," I remarked dubiously. "Would you
mind telling me where the back of my head has gone? I can't help
thinking it isn't there."

She made a quick examination. "It's pretty badly bumped," she said.
"You must have fallen on it."

I had got up on my uninjured elbow by that time, but the pain threw
me back. "Don't look at the wreck," I entreated her. "It's no
sight for a woman. If--if there is any way to tie up this arm, I
might be able to do something. There may be people under those cars!"

"Then it is too late to help," she replied solemnly. A little shower
of feathers, each carrying its fiery lamp, blew over us from some