the light should have been red. Gasping with fear, she sank upon the track in a swoon.
Fifteen minutes later the wreck-train, running at a high rate of speed to reach the scene of the wreck at Allenburg, nearly crushed out her life as she lay helpless between the rails. By reversing the engine and using sand freely, the engineer managed to stop the train within a few feet of the prostrate girl. Three surgeons were on the train, ready to take charge of the wreck victims, and carrying the unconscious operator into her office, they gave her every attention, but were unable to restore consciousness.
"Dr. Gibney, if you will remain here with this patient, we will hurry on to the wreck," said one of the physicians.
"We cannot leave here until the telegraph operator changes the signal," said the wreck-train conductor. "No other person has authority to touch the levers."
"She is recovering now," announced Dr. Gibney. A few minutes later Mercedes opened her eyes and stared at the faces near her. Then, laughing hysterically, she got upon her feet, saying:
"Well, what are you all glaring at me for? Do you think there is any danger of me causing a wreck?… Just think! It is almost two years now since Forty-nine and Forty collided, and poor Joe was killed!"—her voice sank almost into a whisper—"killed, and I have never been able to find where they buried him!
