“Chunky, you’re a bird!” cried Ned. “Never again will I rig you about the eats. Lead me to ’em!”
“Fix the car first!” ordered Jerry. “We can’t take any chances with that.”
Working cautiously, so as not to jar the automobile, and start it over the brink, the boys, disregarding the drenching rain, got out the thin wire rope, which they carried in case they might need a tow, and fastened it to the rear axle and then to a big tree, pulling the cable taut.
“That ought to hold her,” said Jerry. “But we’ll pile some more stones in front of the wheels.”
Not until this was done, and the car made as secure as possible, did the boys get their raincoats and blankets from the space under the seats. By this time they were pretty well drenched. But the night was a warm one, and their condition was not as unpleasant as it might otherwise have been.
“Now for the eats!” cried Ned. “Pile ’em out, Bob.”
With some of the auto robes they made a rude sort of shelter among the trees, and one of the oil lamps, carried on the car for emergency, made the place a little light. The red tail lamp of the auto was sufficient to warn other travelers that the road was partly blocked.
“Though I don’t believe anyone will come up here in this storm,” remarked Jerry.
The hot coffee from the vacuum bottle, and the sandwiches which Bob had provided, made them all feel better.