That he had known of it was evident from the
fact that it was recorded on the train sheet. Two minutes after the
freight had left Monte Carlo, poor Pat realized he had at last made his
mistake. He said not a word to any person, but quietly ordered out the
wrecking outfit, and then reaching in the drawer he took out a revolver
and--snuffed out his candle. He fell forward on the train sheet, as if
to cover up with his lifeless body, the terrible blunder he had just
made. Many other despatchers had made serious errors, and in a measure
outlived them; but here was a man who had grown gray in the service of
railroads, with never a bad mark against him. Day and night, in season
and out, he had given the best of his brain and life to the service, and
finally by one slip of the memory he had, as he thought, ruined himself;
and, too proud to bear the disgrace, he killed himself. He was
absolutely alone in the world and left none to mourn his loss save a
large number of operators he had helped over the rough places of the
profession.
The wreck was an awful one. The superintendent's son was riding on the
engine, and he and the engineer and the fireman were mashed and crushed
almost beyond recognition.
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