"Then remorse took possession of me. Wasn't it enough to maim and
disfigure poor Tamplin, why cook him to death--I'd shut off that cock. I
fought with it, but it wouldn't close, and I called Dennis to help me.
"Some one stood behind me and put a cool hand on my brow, and a woman's
voice said, 'Poor brave fellow, he's still thinking of his duty; all the
heroes don't live in books.'
"I opened my eyes, and looked around. I was in St. Mary's Hospital, and
a nun was talking to herself.
"Well, John, I'd been there for more than six weeks, and it took six
more before I understood just what had happened and could hobble
around, for I had legs and ribs and an arm broken.
"It must have been at the moment I opened that blow-off cock that part
of a runaway train came down the north grade, backward, like a whirlwind
and buried my engine and myself, piling up an awful wreck that took
fire. I was rescued at the last moment by the crowd of railroad men that
collected and bodily tore the wreck apart to get at me. Every one
thought I tried to close that blow-off cock and hold the throttle shut.
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