He forgot God!
* * * * *
The long, stifling day was drawing near its close. Half an hour more and
the workmen would be free to rest. Only half an hour! Suddenly there was
a sharp clicking sound, then a cry, and in an instant all was bustle and
confusion at the Marlborough Steel Works. The great hammers hung
suspended in mid-air, the whirling wheels were still, while the workmen,
with faces showing pale beneath the grime, gathered hastily around a
fallen comrade. Summoned by telephone the Company's surgeon was driving
rapidly towards the Works, but his services would not be required.
An accident. No one knew just how it happened. There must have been a
flaw, a defect in some part of the machinery. These things do happen.
Somewhere there had been carelessness, dishonesty, and the price of it
was--a life!
The dying man opened his eyes suddenly and looked full at John Randolph,
who knelt beside him supporting his head on his arm.
"Little Dick," he murmured.
"All right, Trueman, I will take care of him."
"God bless you, John!" and with the fervid benediction, the breath
ceased and the spirit flew away.
The body was prepared for the inquest, and through the gathering dusk
John, strangely white and silent, entered the house he called home,
gathered the fatherless boy into his arms and let him sob out his grief
upon his shoulder.
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