'I won't,' said Dick. 'It's no load in particular.'
'Then why mek' a row about handin' it over?' queried the Raven.
Dick was about to reply when he paused, looked ahead, and said: 'By Jingo, Chippy, here comes a choker. The haversacks will come handy to put our heads into.'
The Raven turned and saw a huge pillar of dust whirling towards them. It rose high above the hedges beyond a bend near at hand, and came on at great speed. The scouts knew that a motor-car was at the fore-foot of the pillar, and they stepped back into the shallow ditch which bordered the way.
In another moment a big, heavy car, flying at terrific speed, came shooting round the bend, and as it flew it gathered the deep white dust, and hurled it thirty feet into the air; leaving the road in the wake of the car one utterly blinding, choking mass of eddying dust. The scouts threw themselves into the bank and covered their faces with their hats: it was the only way of drawing some sort of breath, and even then their throats were choked with dust till they coughed.
'Nice thing, a motor-car running forty miles an hour over two inches of dust,' remarked Dick in ironical tones.
'It 'ud serve 'em right to bust their tyres on a broken bottle end,' murmured Chippy. 'It ain't safe to scoot along like that on these 'ere narrow roads.'
'It's to be hoped they eased up before passing the old man and his donkey-cart,' said Dick. 'The wind of their passing would be enough almost to upset him.'
'That's wot they've done,' cried Chippy suddenly. 'Look! look! his cart's in the ditch.'
Dick looked, and saw through the thinning cloud that the poor old man was in distress. His cart was turned over, and the donkey was struggling on its side. The scouts ran back at full speed to help him.