ashed and he
presented a pale and anxious face to the view of the cab crew.

"What's the prospects?" he inquired in a discouraged tone.

"It looks like an all-night lay-over," reported Ralph.

"There's nothing ahead, of course," said the conductor calculatingly.
"There's a freight due on the in track. Behind us a freight was to
come, provided No. 11 put out from Stanley Junction to-night."

"Which I doubt," said Fogg.

"If we could back to Vernon we'd be in better touch with something
civilized," went on the conductor. "The wires are all down here."

"I can try it," replied Ralph, "but without a pilot the rear car will
soon come to a bump."

"Give her a show, anyway," suggested the conductor.

Two minutes' effort resulted in a dead stop. The young engineer knew
his business well enough to understand that they were in danger of
running the train off the track.

"I'll send a signal back, if a man can get back," decided the
conductor.

The backing-up had left a clear brief space before the train. Ralph
took a lantern and left his fireman in charge of the locomotive. He
was gone about ten minutes, and came back panting and loaded down with
the heavy, clinging snow.

"May as well bunk in right here," ventured Fogg.

"That's it," answered Ralph definitely. "It's drift after drift ahead.
No use disabling the locomotive, and we simply can't hope to dig our
way out."

The conductor came forward again looking miserable. A red lantern had
been planted as far down the tracks as the brakeman dared to go. The
conductor and Ralph held a conversation. Fogg, a veteran in the
service, was appealed to for a final decision.

"You've hit it," said the fireman sagely and with emphasis. "It's a
permanent blockage, and our only chance is for the Great Northern to
find us out or for us to wait until the snow melts."

"If this snow keeps up we'll be buried under," said the conductor.

"Well, we've got to make the best of it," advised Fogg. "If we can
make it, build a big fire ahead there as a warning or signal, although
I don't believe there's much stirring at either end. Then it's just a
question of food and warmth."

"Food!" repeated the conductor, who was fat and hearty and looked as
if he never willingly missed his meals; "where in the world are we to
get food? They cut the diner off at the Junction, and there probably
isn't a farmhouse or station along this dreary waste for miles."

"Well, I fancy we'll have to stand