more of the colored messengers,
projectiles, fireworks, whatever they were, rained down, one about
half-way down the train, the other beyond it.

The young engineer was puzzled at first, but he soon made out all that
theory and logic could suggest. There was no doubt but that some one
at a distance had fired the queer little spheres, which were made of
the same material as the regular train fuse, only these burned twice
as long as those used as railroad signals, or fully twenty minutes.

"I make it out," explained Ralph to the conductor, "that somebody with
a new-fangled device like a Roman candle is sending out these bombs as
signals."

"Then we're not alone in our misery," remarked Fogg.

"First they went west, then they came this way," continued Ralph. "I
should say that it looks as if the signal is on a train stalled like
us about a mile away. I'll soon know."

Ralph got into the cab. In a minute or two No. 999 began a series of
challenge whistles that echoed far and wide.

"Hark!" ordered Fogg, as they waited for a reply.

"A mere peep," reported the conductor, as a faint whistle reached
their strained hearing above the noise of the tempest.

"Yes," nodded Fogg, "I figure it out. There's a train somewhere near
with the locomotive nigh dead."

"If it should be the east freight stalled," suggested Ralph to the
conductor, "you needn't worry about those hungry children in the
coaches, and that baby you told about wanting milk."

"No, the east freight is a regular provision train," put in the
fireman. "If we could reach her, we'd have our pick of eatables."

It was two hours later, and things had quieted down about the
snowed-in train, when a series of shouts greeted Ralph, Fogg and the
conductor, seated on a broken log around the fire at the side of the
tracks.

"What's this new windfall!" exclaimed Fogg.

"More signals," echoed the conductor, staring vaguely.

"Human signals, then," supplemented Ralph. "Well, here's a queer
arrival."

Five persons came toppling down the side of the embankment, in a
string. They were tied together at intervals along a rope. All in a
mix-up, they landed helter-skelter in the snow of the cut. They
resembled Alpine tourists, arrived on a landslide.

"Why, it's Burton, fireman of the east freight!" shouted the
conductor, recognizing the first of the five who picked himself up
from the snow.

"That's who!" answered the man addressed, panting hard. "We're
stalled abou