ful locomotive dove into the drift, the
snow packed through the denuded window-frame at the fireman's seat
like grain into a bin. A solid block of snow was formed under the
terrific pressure of the compact. It lodged against the coal of the
tender with a power that would probably have crushed the life out of a
person standing in the way.

"Whew!" shouted Fogg. "Lucky I ducked."

Ralph stopped the engine, which had been going slower and slower each
minute of the past hour. They had gotten about half the distance to
Rockton. Long since, however, both engineer and fireman had fully
decided that they would never make terminus that night.

They had left Stanley Junction under difficulties. The snow was deep
and heavy, and there was a further fall as they cleared the limits.
There was no wind, but the snow came down with blinding steadiness and
volume, and at Vernon they got the stop signal.

The operator stated that the line ahead leading past Fordham Cut was
impassable. The passenger was stalled ten miles away, and orders from
Rockton were to the effect that the Overland Express should take the
cut-off. This diverged into the foothills, where there were no such
deep cuts as on the direct route, and where it was hoped the drifts
would not be so heavy.

Neither Ralph nor Fogg was familiar with their new routing. For an
hour they made fair progress. Then they began to encounter trouble.
They did not run a yard that the pilot wheels were not sunk to the
rims in snow. Landmarks were blotted out. As they found themselves
blindly trusting to the power of the giant locomotive to forge ahead
despite obstacles, they were practically a lost train.

It was now, as they dove bodily into a great drift choking up an
embankment cut, that they realized that they had reached a definite
angle in their experience of the run, and were halted for good.

No. 999 barely pushed her nose far enough out of the enveloping drift,
to enable Ralph by the aid of the glaring headlight to discern other
drifts further ahead.

"We're stalled, that's dead sure," declared Fogg. "Signal the
conductor and see what the programme is."

It was some time after the tooting signal that the conductor put in an
appearance. He did not come along the side track. That was fairly
impossible, for it would have been sheer burrow progress. He came over
the top of the next car to the tender, a blind baggage, and as he
climbed over the coal in the tender his lantern sm