The Danger-light
was not yet lighted. Against its shaft, a little low hut, entirely new
to me, had been made of some wooden supports and tarpaulin. It looked
no bigger than a bed.
With an irresistible sense that something was wrong, with a flashing
self-reproachful fear that fatal mischief had come of my leaving the
man there, and causing no one to be sent to overlook or correct what
he did,--I descended the notched path with all the speed I could make.
"What is the matter?" I asked the men.
"Signal-man killed this morning, sir."
"Not the man belonging to that box?"
"Yes, sir."
"Not the man I know?"
"You will recognize him, sir, if you knew him," said the man who spoke
for the others, solemnly uncovering his own head and raising an end
of the tarpaulin, "for his face is quite composed."
"O, how did this happen, how did this happen?" I asked, turning from
one to another as the hut closed in again.
"He was cut down by an engine, sir. No man in England knew his work
better. But somehow he was not clear of the outer rail.
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