He crawled out, covered with dust, which fact he did not seem to mind, and then turned the crank that sent the fly wheel over. Jerry turned on the gasolene and threw in the spark, and, the next instant the familiar chug-chug of the engine told that the auto was ready to bear the boys and Professor Snodgrass on their way.
They were headed on as straight a road as they could find to the Rio Grande, but, because of the conditions of the thoroughfares it would be several days before they could cross the big river and get into Texas. Their main concern now was to reach some place where there was shelter for the night.
“Keep your eyes peeled for villages,” called Ned. “We don’t want to pass any. I think a good bed would go fine now.”
“A supper would go better,” put in Bob.
“Oh, of course! It wouldn’t be Chunky if he didn’t say something about eating,” remarked Jerry with a laugh. “But there seems to be something ahead. It’s a house at all events, and probably is the mark of the outskirts of the village.”
On the left side of the road, about a hundred yards ahead they saw an adobe, or mud hut. They could see no signs of life about in the half-darkness, illuminated as it was by the powerful search light, but this gave them no concern, as they knew the native Mexicans retired early.
When they came opposite the hut Jerry brought the machine to a stop, and he and the other boys jumped out. The professor, who, as usual was arranging some specimens in one of the many small boxes he carried, remained in the car.
“Hello!” shouted Bob. “Is any one home? Show a light. Can we get a supper here?”
“Why don’t you ask for a bed too?” inquired Ned.
“Supper first,” replied Chunky, rubbing his stomach with a reflective air.