The sun sank slowly to rest behind the big wooded hills as the auto glided along, and, almost before the boys realized it, darkness was upon them.
“Better light the lamps,” suggested Ned. “No telling what we’ll run into on this road. No use colliding with more ox carts, if we can help it.”
“I’ll light up,” volunteered Bob. “It will give me a chance to stretch my legs. I’m all cramped up from sitting still so long.”
Jerry brought the big machine to a stop while Bob alighted and proceeded to illuminate the big search lamp and the smaller ones that burned oil. He had just started the acetylene gas aglow when, glancing forward he gave a cry of alarm.
“What is it?” cried Jerry, seeing that something was wrong. “Is it a mountain lion?”
“It’s worse!” cried Bob in a frightened voice.
“What?”
“A regular den of snakes! The horrible things are stretched right across the road, and we can’t get past. Ugh! There are some whoppers!”
Bob, who hated, above all creatures a snake, made a jump into the auto.