Burnham Breaker | Page 9

will tell you the whole story. I think you are
ready now to hear it with attention, and to consider it fairly."
The old man pushed his satchel aside, pulled his chair closer to the
table, cleared his throat, and began:--
"It was May 13, 1859. I'd been out in the country at my son's, and was
riding into the city in the evening. I was in the smoking-car. Along
about nine o'clock there was a sudden jerk, then half a dozen more jerks,
and the train came to a dead stop. I got up and went out with the rest,
and we then saw that the bridge had broken down, and the three cars
behind the smoker had tumbled into the creek. I hurried down the bank
and did what I could to help those in the wreck, but it was very dark
and the cars were piled up in a heap, and it was hard to do anything.
Then the fire broke out and we had to stand back. But I heard a child
crying by a broken window, just where the middle car had struck across
the rear one, and I climbed up there at the risk of my life and looked in.
The fire gave some light by this time, and I saw a young woman lying
there, caught between the timbers and perfectly still. A sudden blaze
showed me that she was dead. Then the child cried again; I saw where
he was, and reached in and pulled him out just as the fire caught in his
cloak. I jumped down into the water with him, and put out the fire and
saved him. He wasn't hurt much. It was your boy Ralph. By this time
the wreck was all ablaze and we had to get up on the bank.
"I took the child around among the people there, and tried to find out
who he belonged to, but no one seemed to know anything about him.
He wasn't old enough to talk distinctly, so he couldn't tell me much

about himself; not anything, in fact, except that his name was Ralph. I
took him home with me to my lodgings in the city that night, and the
next morning I went out to the scene of the accident to try to discover
some clew to his identity. But I couldn't find out anything about him;
nothing at all. The day after that I was taken sick. The exertion, the
exposure, and the wetting I had got in the water of the brook, brought
on a severe attack of pneumonia. It was several months before I got
around again as usual, and I am still suffering, you see, from the results
of that sickness. After that, as my time and means and business would
permit, I went out and searched for the boy's friends. It is useless for
me to go into the details of that search, but I will say that I made every
effort and every sacrifice possible during five years, without the
slightest success. In the meantime the child remained with me, and I
clothed him and fed him and cared for him the very best I could,
considering the circumstances in which I was placed.
"About three years ago I happened to be in Scranton on business, and,
by the merest chance, I learned that you had been in the Cherry Brook
disaster, that you had lost your child there, and that the child's name
was Ralph. Following up the clew, I became convinced that this boy
was your son. I thought the best way to break the news to you was to
bring you the child himself. With that end in view, I returned
immediately to Philadelphia, only to find Ralph--missing. He had either
run away or been stolen, I could not tell which. I was not able to trace
him. Three months later I heard that he had been with a travelling
circus company, but had left them after a few days. After that I lost
track of him entirely for about three years. Now, however, I have found
him. I saw him so lately as yesterday. He is alive and well."
Several times during the recital of this narrative, the old man had been
interrupted by spasms of coughing, and, now that he was done, he gave
himself up to a violent and prolonged fit of it.
Robert Burnham had listened intently enough, there was no doubt of
that; but he did not yet seem quite ready to believe that his boy was
really alive.
"Why did you not tell me," he asked, "when the child left you, so that I

might have assisted you in the search for him?"
Craft hesitated a moment.
"I did not dare to," he