Eleanor Brewster and her guests were grouped beside Lidgerwood when he disconnected the pocket set from the cut wire, and temporarily repaired the break.  The service-car had been turned into a make-shift hospital for the wounded, and the car-party was homeless.

“We are all waiting to say how sorry we are that we insisted on coming and thus adding to your responsibilities, Howard,” said the president’s daughter, and now there was no trace of mockery in her voice.

His answer was entirely sympathetic and grateful.

“I’m only sorry that you have been obliged to see and take part in such a frightful horror, that’s all.  As for your being in the way—­it’s quite the other thing.  Cranford owes his life to Mr. Van Lew and Jefferis; and as for you three,” including Eleanor and the two young women, “your work is beyond any praise of mine.  I’m anxious now merely because I don’t know what to do with you while we wait for the relief-train to come.”

“Ignore us completely,” said Eleanor promptly.  “We are going over to that little level place by the side-track and make us a camp-fire.  We were just waiting to be comfortably forgiven for having burdened you with a pleasure party at such a time.”

“We couldn’t foresee this, any of us,” he made haste to say.  “Now, if you’ll do what you suggested—­go and build a fire to wait by?—­I hope it won’t be very long.”

Freed of the more crushing responsibilities, Lidgerwood found Bradford and Groner, and with the two conductors went down the track to the point of derailment to make the technical investigation of causes.

Ordinarily, the mere fact of a destructive derailment leaves little to be discovered when the cause is sought afterward.  But, singularly enough, the curved track was torn up only on the side toward the hill; the outer rail was still in place, and the cross-ties, deeply bedded in the hard gravel of the cutting, showed only the surface mutilation of the grinding wheels.

“Broken flange under the 215, I’ll bet,” said Groner, holding his lantern down to the gashed ties.  But Bradford denied it.

“No,” he contradicted:  “Cranford was able to talk a little after we toted him back to the service-car.  He says it was a broken rail; says he saw it and saw the man that was flaggin’ him down, all in good time to give her the air before he hit it.”

“What man was that?” asked Groner, whose point of view had not been that of an onlooker.

Lidgerwood answered for himself and Bradford.

“That is one of the things we’d like to know, Groner.  Just before the smash a man, whom none of us recognized, ran down the track and tried to give Cranford the stop signal.”

They had been walking on down the line, looking for the actual point of derailment.  When it was found, it proved Cranford’s assertion—­in part.  There was a gap in the rail on the river side of the line, but it was not a fracture.  At one of the joints the fish-plates were missing, and the rail-ends were sprung apart sidewise sufficiently to let the wheel flanges pass through.  Groner went down on his hands and knees with the lantern held low, and made another discovery.