Falchion.
"You might have got one more cheerful."
"Wait till it gets tuned up," said Mr. Devlin. "It hasn't had a chance to
get the burs out of its throat. It will be very fine as soon as the
engine-man knows how to manage it."
"Yes," said Ruth, interposing, "a little toning down would do it good--it
is shaking the windows in your office; feel this platform tremble!"
"Well, I bargained for a big whistle and I've got it: and I guess they'll
know if ever there's a fire in the town!" Just as he said this, Roscoe
gave a cry and pointed.
We all turned, and saw a sight that made Ruth Devlin cover her face with
her hands and Mrs. Falchion stand horror-stricken. There, coming down the
cable with the speed of lightning, was the cage. In it was a man--Phil
Boldrick. With a cry and a smothered oath, Mr. Devlin sprang towards the
machinery, Roscoe with him. There was nobody near it, but they saw a boy
whose duty it was that night to manage the cable, running towards it.
Roscoe was the first to reach the lever; but it was too late. He
partially stopped the cage, but only partially. It came with a dull,
sickening thud to the ground, and Phil Boldrick--Phil Boldrick's broken,
battered body--was thrown out.
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