“We never shall be able to get through that,” he groaned.
“Oh, yes we shall. I’ll shovel until I am tired, then you take hold and make the dirt fly.”
“I’ll do that all right,” returned Rector. “I am too keen for my dinner and supper to delay matters any more than I am obliged to. We ought to make Chunky take a hand.”
“No, I wouldn’t risk it. Before he had finished he would have lost the shovel overboard. It is the only one we have. Here goes!”
Tad did make the dirt fly. He was a sturdy young man, all muscle and grit. He shoveled for twenty minutes, working his way through the great heap of dirt. Then he straightened up, his face flushed and perspiring.
“Go to it, Ned!”
Ned did, with a will. An hour and a half was consumed in clearing the trail, and, when 85they finished, both boys were wet with perspiration.
“I think we had better walk for the present,” suggested Tad. “We shall stiffen up if we ride in our present overheated condition.”
Ned nodded.
“I can’t be much lamer than I am. I feel as if I had a broken hinge in my back,” he declared.