“Wires are so clogged we can’t get messages through.  But we knew that Number Forty was stalled about here.  Going to be a job to dig her out.  I’ve got a message for the conductor,” he said when he reached the top of the drift that was heaped over the train.

“Wasn’t it a hard task to get here?” Mr. Gordon asked.

“Not so bad.  My folks live right over the ridge there, about half a mile away.  I just came from the house with the dog.  Down, Nero!  Behave yourself!”

“We are going to be hungry here pretty soon,” suggested Mr. Gordon.

“There will be a pung come up from the station with grub enough before night.  Furnished by the company.  That is what I have come to see the conductor about.”

“I tell you what,” said Betty’s uncle, who was nothing if not quick in thinking.  “My party were bound for Cliffdale.”

“That’s not very far away.  But I doubt if the train gets there this week.”

“Bad outlook for us.  We are going to Mountain Camp—­Mr. Canary’s place.”

“I know that place,” said the telegraph operator.  “There is an easy road to it from our farm through the hills.  Get there quicker than you can by the way of Cliffdale.  I believe my father could drive you up there to-morrow.”

“In a sleigh?” cried Betty delightedly.  “What fun!”

“In a pung.  With four of our horses.  They’d break the road all right.  Ought to start right early in the morning, though.”

“Do you suppose you could get us over to your house to-night?” asked Mr. Gordon quickly.  “There are a good many of us——­”

“How many in the party?” asked the young man.  “My name’s Jaroth—­Fred Jaroth.”

Mr. Gordon handed him his card and said: 

“There are four girls, four boys, and myself.  Quite a party.”

“That is all right, Mr. Gordon,” said Fred Jaroth cheerfully.  “We often put up thirty people in the summer.  We’ve a great ranch of a house.  And I can help you up the bank yonder and beat you a path through the woods to the main road.  Nothing simpler.  Your trunks will get to Cliffdale sometime and you can carry your hand baggage.”

“Not many trunks, thank goodness,” replied Mr. Gordon.  “What do you think, Betty?  Does it sound good?”

“Heavenly!” declared his niece.

Just then a brakeman came up through the tunnel to find out if the wolf had eaten both the gentleman and his niece, and the telegraph operator went down, feet first, to find the conductor and deliver his message.

“Then the idea of going on to Mountain Camp by sledge suits you, does it, young lady?” asked Mr. Gordon of Betty.

“They will all be delighted.  You know they will, Uncle.  What sport!”

The suggestion of the telegraph operator did seem quite inspired.  Mr. Gordon and Betty reentered the train to impart the decision to the others, and, as Betty had claimed, her young friends were both excited and delighted by the prospect.