“It will be a good chance for me to get some specimens,” said the naturalist, as if nothing mattered so long as he got some bugs or snakes.
“I reckon you’ll have all the time you want,” put in the hunter. “But speakin’ of specimens reminds me that I’m hungry. I think I’ll take my gun an’ see if I can’t pot somethin’ for dinner.”
“We’ve got to eat if we can’t travel,” observed Nestor. “Supposin’, Bob, you an’ Ned make a fire, while Jerry tinkers over the auto. Perhaps he can make it go, after all. We’ve had good luck so far, all but this.”
Jerry shook his head. He knew that without the batteries the machine could not be operated. It was like trying to run an engine without a fire under the boiler.
However, he set to work to repair what damage he could. With a small soldering outfit he mended the hole in the water tank, stopping the leak. Then, with an extra link, of which several were carried, the broken chain was mended.
By this time Broswick came back with some partridges and rabbits and a meal, though it lacked many extras, was soon in preparation. After eating, Jerry went back to the machine. He took out the steering-post, and, with the help of Nestor, straightened it. Then some other small repairs were made, and, though the auto looked rather battered and battle-scarred, the paint being scratched in many places, it was still serviceable. All that was lacking was the battery box.
Jerry even filled the water tank from a nearby spring, and then, not being able to do anything more, sat down on a stone and contemplated the useless auto, with sad eyes.
“No use cryin’ over spilt milk,” said Nestor, with rude philosophy. “What can’t be cured must be endured. It’s a long lane that has no turns, an’ the longest way ’round is the shortest way home.”
“Git a hoss! Git a hoss!” exclaimed Broswick, suddenly.