"Say, but you fellows have a cinch!" he said, in admiration. "You get what you please. Wish I was in your shoes!"
"You'd not want to be in our shoes when that brake rod broke," answered Sam bluntly. "Eh, Tom?"
"Not much!" replied his brother.
At last they were on the way again. They had telephoned to Peter Marley, so that the farmer would know the cause of the delay. Sam did the driving and now the machine went along well, and almost before they knew it they were at Rayville and asking the way to the Marley farm. This was on a back road, but the way was good and they reached the farm without trouble, excepting that they had to slow down to let a herd of cows pass them.
"Got here at last, have ye!" cried Peter Marley, as he came out to greet them. "You kin put that 'mobile under the wagon shed if ye want to," he added.
"Can't we use it to go after the biplane?" questioned Dick.
"No, there hain't no fit road. If ye say so, we can go on hosses—if ye want to pay fer ridin'," added the farmer shrewdly. He was a good man, but close, and never allowed a chance to make an honest cent slip by.
"All right, we'll ride," said Dick. "The horses may come in handy for hauling the biplane,—and besides, we can't carry these ropes and hooks if we walk."
So it was arranged; and a little later the party of four set off on horseback, the farmer and Tom carrying the ropes and hooks, and Sam keeping beside Dick, who looked a trifle pale in spite of his efforts to appear all right. The knock-down blow from the flying machine had been harder than the eldest Rover boy was willing to admit.
Rocker's Woods proved to be a large patch of scrub timber, all the large trees having been cut down to feed the old saw-mill, which still stood on the bank of a good-sized stream. The saw-mill had not been used for nine years and the timber was gradually coming up once more.