The guard's stone dead." "Where are we ?" "A few hundred yards from Wymondham.

Let's have a look for the other gentleman." Mr.John P.Dunster was lying quite still, his right leg doubled up, and a huge block of telegraph post, which the saloon had carried with it in its fall, still pressing against his forehead.

He groaned as they dragged him out and laid him down upon a cushion in the shelter of the wreckage.
"He's alive all right," the porter remarked.

"There's a doctor on the way.

Let's cover him up quick and wait." "Can't we carry him to shelter of some sort ?" Gerald proposed.
The man shook his head.