The DeLamar nugget. [volume] (DeLamar, Idaho) 1891-1900, 1892-02-08
PRICE EN- CENT

hlew sclAc dr. III / al accident ha1 hap
pened. While our game had progressed
night had fa'leu, and in the dim light
from the stars and several lanterns I
could see the figures of men moving
about here and there, and I soon real
lied that they were bearing the forms
of killed and wounded to my locality,
some distance from the wreck.
"The sense of sight had been the first
to recover; but now the terrible throb-
bing pain in my head seemed TO lull
and my hearing became more active.
1t was an awful sound that broke upon
my ears Shrieks groans and plead
ings for help were mingled with, cries
of children for parents and parents for
children.
Il made a struggle to get on my feet.
Though at first the pain racked me
from head to foot, l found | could
stand, and was soon walking slowly
and carefully about. Naturally my
first thought was concerning my friends
in the game of whist, they being the
only acquaintances l had on the train.
Almost at the moment l thought of
them two of them came to me. They
were uninjured, and it had been their
hands that had carried me from the car
while was unconscious,
1T took but minute for my friends
to give me some idea of the extent of
the catastrophe. Our smoking-car had
been derailed and had rolled down
steep embankment, dragging the en-
gine and ono other coach with it AS
near as they could tell at that moment
there had been at least a dozen killed
and twice that number wounded.
81 inquired: Where is my partner?
Is he aliveo'
Eyes, he is alive was the reply,
but he is in bad fix We are working
our best to get him out of the wreck,
but without help he cannot be saved.
He lies there with his lower limbs
pinned in between two great iron rods,
and with all the strength we have been
able to apply we can't release him. He
must be in horrible agony, though he
is still conscious
1T was but a ster or two from where
we stood to where the man lay, and we
turned to see if there might not be some
possibility of helping him. terrible
cry came from the sufferer. Just then
some one called: The car is on fire.
The coach is burning
''rhe flame from some lamp had
caught the dry upholstery. The wind
had suddenly increased and was blow
ing the flame toward the spot where
our poor friend was helplessly PIN
ioned. While some ran for water 9th
ers with AK and lever made an effort to
pry the heavy rods and timbers from
the sufferer. 1t was no use; there was
no appliance at hand with which it
could be done, and those who went for
water came back empty-handed The
engine lay upon its side and every drop
of water had leaked out and had been
drunk up by the greedy earth
g For the love of God, men, do some
thing cried the imprisoned wretch.
Must I slowly roast to death?'
''With an awful effort he raised him
self upon an elbow and looked around
upon the faces near him. These were
rapidly diminishing in number, for the
heat had now grown too fierce to be
borne, and the crowd which had never
ceased their efforts to get him out were
driven away. Suddenly his eyes fell
on my face and recognized me.
'You,' he cried in an awful voice,
you are the man to do it. Take that
AK and kill me-
'The thought paralyzed me. He
saw me shrink and shudder, and with
a supreme effort he pointed his finger
straight at me and cried again with
more intensity than before; You! you'll
DO it, tell you
''The heat was making his garments
smoke. Don't let me roast he once
more cried. l forgot my pain and in
Wild delirium l snatched up an ak and
lrove the blade crashing into his skull,
hen all the world became again a
plank
ut was many weeks before I was
to consciousness and many
more before l was able to move. My
bodily injuries, though severe, did not
ripple me, and l am now strong and
physically well But my mind is some
ines upset | believe I did the best
hing that could be done for the poor
nan, though the act was performed in
frenzy that made me irresponsible.
believe to-day it was an act of hui
nanity. 1t has wrecked my life, how
SARAsATE, the violinist, is a small
nan of swarthy complexion and black
lair. He is Spaniard by birth and is
orty-seven years old. He is extrava-
,antly popular in his native town, to
which he pays an annual visit.
SIBYL SANDERsoN, the San Francisco
nightingale, is creating a Juror in Paris,
BRUSSELS and other continental cities.
Ter repertory includes the usual list,
nd she has sung single part one hun
red nights in Paris to crowded houses.