“I’ll show you,” replied the boy.
He ran to the back of the auto, took out a long, stout rope and fastened this to the tree, near the branch end. The other end of the cable Jerry brought back to the machine. This he now tied to the rear axle of the automobile, and then, getting into the front seat, he turned the machine around.
Gradually increasing the speed, he sent the auto ahead. The rope tightened, there was a straining, cracking sound and the tree was pulled to one side of the road by the power of the auto. The thoroughfare was left free for passage.
“I guess they didn’t think of that,” remarked Jerry, as he replaced the rope and turned the machine around. “Now we can go ahead.”
“Good for you!” cried Nestor. “We’ll beat ’em yet, an’ at their own game!”
They piled into the auto, and with Jerry at the wheel, went forward again, Broswick’s horse keeping up. They traveled for about an hour longer and then Nestor suggested that as they had reached a good spot it might be wise to camp there for the rest of the night.
It was not long before every one was snoring in slumber. Ned was the first one to awake, and he did so as the result of a vivid dream he had that he was sliding downhill on top of a barrel, when it collapsed and threw him into a snow-bank.
He opened his eyes to find the ground all white about him, and about three inches of snow covering his rubber blanket.
“Where are we?” he called out, his voice awakening the others.
“A snow squall!” cried Broswick. “I thought we were gittin’ high enough to have ’em. Waal, it won’t amount to much.”