"No—not even much hurt, I fancy," he replied. "And you?"
"Not much"
The deep-throated roar of the locomotive bellowing danger silenced him. He closed his eyes.
Then abruptly the weight was lifted from his chest. He saw a man dragging Rose from under the machine, and saw that the man was Marrophat. And almost immediately some one lifted his head and shoulders, caught him with two hands beneath his armpits, and drew him clear of the machine. And the face of the rescuer was the face of Judith Trine.
The crash he had expected, of the car being crumpled up by the oncoming locomotive, did not follow. As he scrambled to his feet, his first glance was up the track, and discovered the train slowing to a halt.
His next was one of wonder for the countenance of Judith Trine as she stood, at a little distance, regarding him: her look a curious compound of relief, regret, hatred, love.
His third glance described beyond her the figure of Marrophat carrying Rose in his arms, stumbling as he ran toward his car on the highroad.
He moved to pursue, but found his way barred by Judith.
"No!" she cried. "No, you shall not"
Her hand caught the grip of a revolver that protruded from her pocket.
