"This beats th' Dutch! Why, you've got a regular sleepin' an' dinin' car here; ain't you?"
"Somewhat," admitted Dick, while Paul passed out the egg sandwich on a wooden plate.
"Gosh all sizers!" exclaimed Mr. Kinsey, as he bit into it. "It's hot, all right! But it's mighty good jest th' same!" he added quickly.
He ate it with such evident relish that Paul at once fried him another. Then, as the three chums had eaten enough, they put away their cooking apparatus, tossed the wooden plates into the stream, and prepared to get their auto out of the mud.
"The first thing to do," decided Dick, when they had gone ashore in the boat Mr. Kinsey had borrowed for them, "is to see if we can get that tackle. There's no use bothering with horses until we have something rigged up so we can use their strength to the best advantage. Where would we be likely to get a rope and pulleys?" he asked the flagman.
"Wa'al, Josiah McIntyre might have some," was the answer. "He moved his barn last week, and I don't believe they took the rigging away."
"Where does he live?"
"Down the road a piece. Second house on the right. It's painted red and sets back a ways from the road. You can tell him what you want, and say I sent you."
"All right," agreed Dick. "Paul, I'll delegate you to get the rope and pulleys. Push 'em here in a wheelbarrow, and see if we can hire a team when we need it."