Win sat down in silence. Phil was telling his sister great stories of the Hartford visit, and his gleeful tones resounded through the car. Grace was laughing at his big talk, and they seemed to be making a merry time of it. But the train had just stopped at Westfield, and there was difficulty in starting. The wind howled ominously, and great gusts of snow came flying down from the roof of the passenger house against the windows of the car. Presently, the two engines that were drawing the train backed up a little to get a good start, and then plunged into the snow.
“Ch—h! Ch—h! ch—ch! Ch-h-h-h-h-!”
The wheels were slipping upon the track, and the train suddenly came to a halt.
Back again they went, a little farther, for another start; and this time the two engines, like “two hearts that beat as one,” cleared the course, and the train went slowly on up the grade. Grace and Phil had stopped talking, and they now came across, and joined their brothers.
“Aren’t you afraid there may be trouble on the mountain, Will?” asked Grace.
“Shouldn’t wonder,” said that gentleman, shortly.
“But, Will, what in the world should we do if we should happen to be blockaded?”
“Sit still and wait till we were shoveled out, I suppose. You see, we couldn’t go on afoot very well.”
“Going to be snowed up! That’s tiptop!” cried Phil. The boy’s love of adventure had crowded out all thoughts of the festival to which they were hastening. “I read in the paper about a train that was snowed up three or four days on the Pacific road, and the passengers had jolly times; the station wasn’t very far off, and they got enough to eat and drink, and they had all sorts of shows on the train.”
“But I’d rather see the show at the Christmas tree to-night,” said Win, “than any show we’ll see on this old train. Wouldn’t you, Bill?”