erable. 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 the hunger," said Ralph. "As to the heat, that's an essential we mustn't neglect. We had better shut off the steam pipes, keeping only a little fire in the furnace and starting the stoves in the coaches."
