“She won’t make it with three aboard,” said the driver. “You got to get down and shove.”
Kit and Austin jumped down, and at a soft spot the other joined them, but he did not stop the engine.
“The rut will hold her straight, and I guess she won’t get away from us,” he said.
Kit looked up the curving trail. The boggy soil was torn by wheels and the pitch was very steep. Small poplars and willows covered the awkward slope.
“I think you might risk it.”
“When Blain was riding to the station one day his car stalled. He got down to shove some brush under her wheels. She knocked him over and went off.”
“Where did she go?” Kit inquired.
“I wasn’t around,” said the driver. “Blain allowed she went up a tree!”
They pushed the car up the hill, and when they got on board Kit remarked: “To haul their wheat across must bother the farmers.”
“They use the new elevators along our line,” Austin replied. “Before the track was built they dumped their loads at the bridge and carried the bags across the boggy piece. A four-bushel bag weighs pretty near two hundred and fifty pounds.”