“A rope?”
“Yes. A good, strong one. One that will go around that rock and then be plenty long enough to hitch to one of the cars—the big car. I believe we can start the rock that way.”
“Hurrah!” cried Lance. “She’s got the idea! What do you say, Chet?”
“Looks like it. But how about the rope? Where’ll we get it?”
“We got a goot one at our house,” said Otto, who was sitting down, puffing, after having strained at the rock. “Dot hay rope, he be juist de t’ing.”
“The hay rope for ours, then,” cried Chet. “Come on, Otto. We’ll go after it!”
He started for the machines, the Swiss youth after him. They got in the Belding car immediately and started the engine. Purt Sweet sprang up with a yell and ran along the shore of the pond after the car.
“Oh, oh! Stop!” he shrieked.
But Chet did not hear him. Lance caught Pretty by the arm and demanded to know what he was yelling about.
“Why,” gasped Purt, “they’ve driven off with a whole lot of the lunch the girls spread on the seats. And look at them go! Why! it’ll all be joggled onto the floor of the tonneau before they get back.”