“Stay here with Bradford and Jefferis, and get that engineer out!” he called to Van Lew.  Then, with arms outspread, he charged down upon the train’s company, escaping as it could through the broken windows of the cars.  “This way, every man of you!” he yelled, his shout dominating the clamor of cries, crashing glass, and hissing steam.  “The fire’s what we’ve got to fight!  Line up down to the river, and pass water in anything you can get hold of!  Here, Groner”—­to the train conductor, who was picking himself up out of the ditch into which the shock had thrown him—­“send somebody to the Pullman for blankets.  Jump for it, man, before this fire gets headway!”

Luckily, there were by this time plenty of willing hands to help.  The Timanyoni is a man’s country, and there were few women in the train’s passenger list.  Quickly a line was formed to the near-by margin of the river, and water, in hats, in buckets improvised out of pieces of tin torn from the wrecked car-roofs, in saturated coats, cushion covers, and Pullman blankets, hissed upon the fire, beat it down, and presently extinguished it.

Then the work of extricating the imprisoned ones began, light for it being obtained by the backing of Williams’s engine to the main line above the switch so that the headlight played upon the scene.

Lidgerwood was fairly in the thick of the rescue work when Miss Brewster, walking down the track from the service-car and bringing the two young women who were afraid to be left behind, launched herself and her companions into the midst of the nerve-racking horror.

“Give us something to do,” she commanded, when he would have sent them back; and he changed his mind and set them at work binding up wounds and caring for the injured quite as if they had been trained nurses sent from heaven at the opportune moment.

In a very little time the length and breadth of the disaster were fully known, and its consequences alleviated, so far as they might be with the means at hand.  There were three killed outright in the smoker, two in the half-filled day-coach, and none in the sleeper; six in all, including the fireman pinned beneath the wreck of the tender.  Cranford, the engineer, was dug out of his coal-covered grave by Van Lew and Jefferis, badly burned and bruised, but still living; and there were a score of other woundings, more or less dreadful.

Red Butte was the nearest point from which a relief-train could be sent, and Lidgerwood promptly cut the telegraph wire, connected his pocket set of instruments, and sent in the call for help.  That done he transferred the pocket relay to the other end of the cut wire, and called up the night despatcher at Angels.  Fortunately, McCloskey and Dawson were just in with the two wrecking-trains from the Crosswater Hills, and the superintendent ordered Dawson to come out immediately with his train and a fresh crew, if it could be obtained.

Dawson took the wire and replied in person.  His crew was good for another tussle, he said, and his train was still in readiness.  He would start west at once, or the moment the despatcher could clear for him, and would be at Silver Switch as soon as the intervening miles would permit.