Looking up to where the Golden Eagle was soaring far above them the party in the auto set up a cheer to which Frank answered with a wave of the hand. The next instant he pointed to the westward, and—skirting the banks of the steep arroyo till they found a place where a ford had been made—the boys in the auto followed them.
Late that afternoon the character of the country over which they had been traveling began to change. The road grew rugged and in places great trees grew right up to the edge of the track and overshadowed it. The aeroplane soared far above the treetops, however, and the boys had no difficulty in keeping track of it. Suddenly, however, as they drove along the rough track, Billy, who was driving, stopped the car with a jerk.
“We can’t get any further,” he remarked.
“Why not?” demanded Bart Witherbee.
“Look there.”
The boy pointed ahead a few feet up the road.
A huge tree lay across it, effectually blocking all progress.
CHAPTER XXI.
BART AND THE B’AR.
“Well, boys, we sure do seem to be in for a run of hard luck,” remarked Bart Witherbee as he climbed out of the auto with the others, and they ruefully surveyed the obstruction. It was a big sugar pine and lay entirely across the road. To go round it was out of the question, for the ground on each side was timber grown and rocky.
“There’s only one thing to do—cut it away,” pronounced Bart Witherbee, starting back for the tonneau to get the axes.