Looking up
and down the line, they could see their train surrounded by its dazzling
environment, and the drifts were so high that they had filled the low
cutting stretching towards Lowbay level to its top.
The train was an island in a sea of snow.
The Amorians, stiff and cramped with their narrow quarters of the night,
dropped off into the snow on the sheltered side and explored as far as
the overturned engine, now stark and cold, with wonder and awe.
"Why, we're like rats in a trap!" exclaimed Gus Todd.
"We'll have a council of war now," said Acton, as he saw the driver and
his mate floundering towards them, "and then we can see what's to be
done--if anything can be done."
It seemed the result of the council was to be the decision that there
was nothing to be done. To go back to Lowbay, or forward to Lansdale,
was plainly impossible, and neither guard nor driver thought they could
be ploughed out under two days at the earliest. "And yet," concluded
Acton, "we can't starve and freeze for two days. Look here, guard, isn't
there a fell farm somewhere hereabouts? I begin to fancy----"
"There's one over the hills yonder, three or four miles away. Might as
well be three hundred, for they'll never dream of our being snowed up
here."
"Well, but can't we go to them, if you know the way?"
"That's just what I don't know, with all this snow about. The farm is
behind that hill somewhere; but I could no more take you there than fly.
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