: 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 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."

By listening to the conversation of some of the people in the car,
Porton and Crapsey learned that it was only a short distance to the
town, and they followed several men and a woman when they left the
train to finish the journey on foot.

"I know where we are now," said Porton, presently, as he and his
companion struck a well-defined road leading past the Wadsworth
jewelry works. "We'll be right in Crumville in a little while more."

Ward Porton knew very well that he must not show himself in Crumville
any more than was necessary. Consequently, as soon as they came within
sight of the town proper, he suggested that they look around for some
place where they might remain until daybreak.

"Right you are," answered Tim Crapsey. And a little later, coming to a
large barn, they tried the door, and, find