“Hadn’t we better skip?” asked Nestor of the hunter.
“There are a few more than I reckoned on,” was the reply. “I guess we may as well skedaddle if we don’t want trouble. I don’t know how my nag will run, compared to the Indian ponies, but——”
“Better get in the auto,” suggested Nestor. “It will hold six on a pinch.”
By this time Ned was frantically cranking up the machine. But, though he turned the flywheel with all his strength, while Bob attended to the spark and gasolene levers, the machine would not start.
“What’s the matter?” cried Jerry, who had delayed, to pick up some of the baggage that was unloaded for dinner.
“She’s stuck!” yelled Bob.
Jerry sprang to the cranking handle. His success was no better than Ned’s. There were a few faint compressions, but that was all.
“Better start if you’re goin’ to,” said Broswick, coming up. “They’re almost here now.”
“We can’t start!” exclaimed Jerry.