A light suddenly flashed up and the steady crackle of flames began.
From the debris below came the scream of a woman for help.
She drew back her slender fist and tried to smash the double plate
glass windows and only bruised her tapering fingers.
She found a step-ladder and broke the windows out.
Lifting herself on the seat, and peering through, she saw by the
glare of the buring wreck the swirling waters of the river twenty
feet below.
She rushed back to her berth, on the lower side, smashed the windows,
and found the car resting on another sleeper. The blow had broken
through both sets of windows.
She lightly sprang through and drew the children after her. A stifled
groan, as from one straining the last muscle in some desperate
effort, came from a berth. Rushing forward, still dragging the
children, she found Kate pinned on her back, with the flames leaping
closer each moment.
The violet eyes turned pitifully on Ruth, staring wide with the set
agony of speechless fear and searched her face for the verdict of
life.
A faint cry came from the full lips, white at the thought of death:
"Help me, for God's sake; I'll be burning in a moment!"
Did the dark eyes waver with an instant's hesitation as she thought
of her children imperiled by the delay and of the shame this woman's
life meant to her? If so, she who cried did not see it.
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