While all this had been going on among the tourists and Cal, the other passengers, mainly mountaineers, had stood in a group aside talking among themselves. In the meanwhile, the Motor Rangers had been examining the damage to their car. They found that the connecting rod working the band of the emergency brake had snapped, and that a blacksmith would be needed to weld it. Cal, who had strolled up in time to hear this decision, informed them that there was a blacksmith at Lariat.
"And a good 'un, too," he volunteered.
The stage driver then made a request for a ride on behalf of the young lady and her parents.
"Me and the Dutchman and the rest kin hoof it," he remarked. "It ain't above five mile, and down grade, too."
"A steep grade?" asked Nat, with some appearance of interest as Joe finished unbolting the loose ends of the broken rod.
"No, jest gentle. It runs on 'bout this way all down into Lariat."
"Well, then," said Nat, with a smile, "I'll save you all the trouble of walking."
"How's that, pod'ner? We kain't all pile in the hold of that benzine buggy."
"No; but I can give you a tow."