“All right, provided we can get aboard.”
Slowly the train puffed in and proved to be a freight. On the rear, however, was a passenger car, hooked on at the last station.
Slowly the train puffed in, and proved to be a freight. Page 136.
“The regular passenger train is stalled in the cut beyond Breckford,” announced the conductor of the freight, “and there’s no telling when she’ll get out. If you folks want to risk getting through, get aboard;” and at this invitation all those waiting at the station lost no time in boarding the mixed train. Then, with a great deal of puffing and blowing, the locomotive moved slowly 137 away from Pepsico, dragging the long line of cars, some full and some empty, behind it.
Long before Crumville was reached it became a question as to whether the train would get through or not. The snow was coming down as thickly as ever, and the wind whistled with increased violence.
“I don’t believe we’ll get much farther than Crumville,” announced the conductor, when he came through to collect tickets. “We should have passed at least two trains coming the other way. But nothing has come along, and that would seem to show that the line is blocked ahead of us.”
As a matter of fact, the mixed train did not get even as far as Dave’s home town. Running was all right so long as the tracks were up on the embankment, but as soon as they reached the level of the surrounding country the snow became so deep that several times the train had to be backed up so that a fresh start might be made. Then, when they came to a cut not over three feet deep, just on the outskirts of the town, the engineer found it utterly impossible to get any farther.
“We’ll have to have a snow-plough to get us out,” he declared, “or otherwise we’ll have to remain here until the storm clears away.”