“That’s a good idee,” was the consensus of opinion, and soon two men were lying one at each end of a round log, over which the rope had been run. Then the crowd began to heave again, but although their intentions were good their manner of hauling was so jerky that every tug strained the rope almost to breaking point.
“Ef only we had a windlass,” groaned the sheriff, “we could git a good, even pull and soon hev ’em on terrible firma.”
“I know what we can do!” suddenly exclaimed Harry, “we can hitch the rope to the automobile and get them out.”
In his excitement he had forgotten that they had not yet located the auto.
“But where is yer buzz wagon?” objected the sheriff.
“That’s so,” said Harry in a chagrined tone. “Where can they have hidden it? It must be here somewhere.”
“What’s that, young feller?” asked a tall man in blue overalls.
“Why, our auto. Some men stole it last night and drove it here. They stole the poor old man who is down in the pit, and brought him here in it,” exclaimed the excited lad. “So far as we know, it’s here yet, but we don’t know whereabouts.”
“Maybe I kin help yer, thin. There’s a buzz wagon down back of my house behind a haystack. Looks like some one tried to hide it there.”
“That’s it,” cried Harry, racing off and in a few minutes he was back with the auto which, to his great joy, was found to be unharmed.