Business

Cruelly broken and bruised, Young, Bill Dancing, and Glover late that
night were brought up in rope cradles by the wrecking derrick and taken
into the Brock car, turned by its owner into a hospital. An hour after
the fall on the south arête the hill blockade had been broken. With
word of the disaster to nerve men already strained to the utmost,
effort became superhuman, the impossible was achieved, and the relief
train run in on the mine track.

Morris Blood, unconscious, was lifted from the narrow shelf at four
o'clock and put under a surgeon's care in time to save his life. To
rig a tackle for a three-hundred-foot lift was another matter; but even
while the derrick-car stood idle on the spur waiting for the cable
equipment from the mine, a laughing boy of a surgeon from the hospital
was lowered with the first of the linemen to the snow-field where the
three men roped together had fallen, and surgical aid reached them
before sunset.

Last to come up, because he still gave the orders, Glover, cushioned
and strapped in the tackle, was lifted out of the blackness of the
night into the streaming glare of the headlights. Very carefully he
was swung down to the mattresses piled on the track, and, before all
that looked and waited, a woman knelt and kissed his sunken eyes. Not
then did the men, dim in the circle about them, show what they felt,
though they knew, to the meanest trackhand, all it meant; not when,
after a bare moment of hesitation, Gertrude's father knelt opposite on
the mattress-pile, did they break their silence, though they shrewdly
guessed what that meant.