So they pass up the valley of the Bear, the storm getting wilder, and the snow deeper, as they pull up the heavy grades, and it is night before they reach Aspen, though they have two strong locomotives dragging them. Then they come to the Aspen Y, which is the top of the divide, and from which there is a down grade running almost to Green River. But this part of the road is a difficult one to get over. Two locomotives are not considered too much for its grade when there is no snow on the track; now they can just handle the train, the track being slippery, and the snow-drifts heavy and increasing. It is usual to make a flying switch at this point--one engine detaching itself from the train and entering the Y; leaving one locomotive, which is amply sufficient under ordinary circumstances, to take care of a train on the steep down grade, which begins at this place. To-night the two locomotives should both remain attached to the train, and pull it entirely over the divide together--the helping engine being compelled, of course, to go on as far as the next station, Piedmont. But the conductor, being a man of routine, does it in his ordinary summer way, by the flying switch, and sends the helping locomotive away. This giving its warning toot, uncouples from the second engine, runs ahead of it, and making a switch into the Y, is ready for its return to Evanston. But the single locomotive now attached to the train has not steam to carry it over the divide; its wheels gradually revolve more slowly, the efforts of the great iron beast become more and more labored, and finally the train comes to a dead standstill, fifty yards from where the grade commences to descend. Then, when too late, the other locomotive comes back and goes to its assistance; but the train has stopped--the drifts gradually closing in round the wheels--and now both locomotives cannot move what they could have together carried certainly over the mountain. Though the attempt is made again and again, the train is stalled, and the snow comes down faster and faster and drifts deeper and deeper. Fortunately, the failure of the Central Pacific to connect, has produced a very light passenger list. Harry notices there are only three in his sleeper--a consumptive, going to Colorado, and a lady tourist and her child, a boy of about ten, who have been seeing Salt Lake City. On the Pullman occupied by Miss Travenion there is only one other traveller--a young girl who is being forwarded to an Eastern school by Gentile parents connected with the Union Pacific Railway, in Ogden. These, however, after a little, set up a wail. It is for supper, which the conductor grimly informs them is waiting for them at Green River, ninety miles away. Then comes the triumph of Chicago business methods, and Buck Powers, issuing from the baggage car, cries dominantly: "PIES!! Beefsteak pies!--Mutton pies!--Dried-apple pies! PIES!!" Going to him, Lawrence says anxiously: "Have you looked after her?"