Part 10 (2/2)

”Well, this is a pretty fix, to be sure,” exclaimed Bert. ”We're going to have the time of our lives getting this machine out. What you need for this road is not so much an automobile as a boat. However, it wouldn't speak well for us if we couldn't get our car out of this sc.r.a.pe after all it has done for us, so let's get busy.”

”That's all very well,” said Jim, ”but the question is, how are you going to do it? This isn't exactly a flying machine, although it can go pretty fast, and it seems to me that we will need something like that to get us out of here.”

”Say, you ought to be ashamed of yourself, Jim Dawson,” exclaimed Tom, indignantly, ”here you call yourself one of the crowd, and yet you are willing to give up before you have fairly begun to try. That isn't the right spirit.”

”Oh, it's easy enough to talk,” answered Jim, sulkily, ”but I'd just like to know how you are going to do it, that's all.”

”Well, I can't say I have a plan right now, but I'm sure that our old 'Red Scout' isn't going to leave us in the lurch now after all it has done so far,” and here he patted the vibrating car lovingly.

Meanwhile Bert had been thinking deeply, and had finally hit on a plan.

”Here, some of you fellows, run back and bring me all the hay you can carry from that barn, will you? We want to get out of here as soon as we can, because Mr. Hollis will be anxious about us. Lively's the word.”

Tom, Bob, and Frank ran back to the barn and soon reappeared, carrying armfuls of hay. When they reached the car Bert took charge of it, and placed it carefully under the rear wheels, and made a path in front of each wheel for about six feet.

”If we can only get over to the side of the road and up on that gra.s.s there,” he explained, ”we will be on firmer ground and can get better traction. I only wish we had tire chains.”

”What are tire chains, Bert, and what are they for?” inquired Frank.

”Why, you see how it is,” replied Bert, ”we have plenty of power, but the wheels can't get a grip on the ground, and just skid around. If we had a network of chains over the tires they would bite through the mud to solid ground and get the grip we need. Understand?”

”Sure thing, and much obliged for the explanation,” said Frank, heartily.

By this time Bert had arranged things to his satisfaction, and now climbed into the driver's seat, while the boys looked on expectantly.

Bert threw out the clutch, advanced the spark slightly, and opened the throttle a few notches. Immediately the motor increased its revolutions, and when it had reached a good speed Bert gently eased in the clutch. There was a grinding sound of clutch and gears as the power was transmitted to the rear wheels, and the ”Red Scout” lunged forward.

The front wheels were so firmly embedded by this time, however, that even the ”Red Scout” was helpless. Again and again Bert raced his engine and let in the clutch, and each time the machine made a gallant attempt to free itself, but could never quite make it. Finally he reversed, but with no better result. At last he gave up the attempt, and leaving the motor turning over slowly, descended to hold a consultation with the other boys.

”Have you any suggestions to make, fellows?” he asked, ”I confess I'm up a tree just at present. What do you say, Bob? Can you think of anything?”

”Why, I was thinking,” answered Bob, flattered by this direct appeal to his vaunted experience, ”that if we could dig out a path in front of the machine up onto the gra.s.s we might get it out that way.”

”Say! you've hit the nail on the head this time!” exclaimed Bert, enthusiastically. ”That's just what we'll do. Get that spade out of the tonneau, will you Frank, and we'll get to work.”

Frank immediately complied, and in an incredibly short s.p.a.ce of time the boys had a path dug in front of the auto down to hard gravel, and were ready for another attempt to extricate their beloved car.

Bert climbed into his seat with a do-or-die expression on his handsome young face, and repeated his former tactics, but this time with greater success. The ”Red Scout” surged forward with a roar, like some imprisoned wild creature suddenly given its liberty. Bert took no chances this time, but plugged steadily onward until he reached high, firm ground. Here he stopped the panting machine, and waited for the cheering boys to catch up.

They soon reached the faithful car, and quickly jumped into their places. Before starting again Bert turned around and said, ”Fellows, I think we owe Bob a vote of thanks. All who agree please say 'Aye'.”

There was a hearty chorus of ”Ayes,” and Bob flushed with pleasure at this tribute from his comrades. He thought, and with reason, that he had demonstrated his knowledge of automobiles to good advantage, as well as his ability to meet emergencies.

By this time it was getting near dusk, and Bert knew that Mr. Hollis would be worried over their continued absence. Accordingly, when he got on to the main road, he threw the gears into high speed, and soon they were bowling along at a rapid, but safe, pace toward their camp.

It would be hard to imagine a happier set of boys in the world than those who sat in the big red automobile in the silence of good fellows.h.i.+p and listened to the contented purring of the ”Red Scout's” powerful motor.

As they revolved in their minds the exciting occurrences of the day, and thought of other equally happy days yet to come, it seemed to them that there was indeed nothing more desirable in life than to be campers with such leaders as Mr. Hollis, Bert Wilson, and d.i.c.k Trent. It is safe to say that they would not have changed places with any other set of boys on earth.

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