The boys assured him that they would be glad to do as he asked and after thanking them again he started back.
By great good luck the car had stopped at a place where, after a half hour’s work with the shovel, they were able to back the car out of the road.
“Here they come,” Jack shouted a moment later, and looking up the road they saw the snow plow, characteristic of Maine.
It was made of two huge logs fastened together in the shape of a V and drawn by eight yoke of oxen. A half dozen men and twice as many boys accompanied it, and the boys at least evidently considered it a great lark as their shouts of laughter attested.
After the plow had passed came the task of shoveling through the huge pile of snow heaped up by the roadside. But finally this was accomplished and they were off.
Mr. Scott was waiting for them as they reached the farm house, and insisted that they stop for breakfast, although to tell the truth, they did not need a great deal of urging.
“Mother’s got a big batch o’ buckwheat cakes and sassage all ready an I reckon as how ye’ll have an appetite as’ll about fit ’em,” he declared, as he led the way to the house.
They found Mrs. Scott a motherly woman who showered them with thanks, and the breakfast was all and more than the farmer had promised.
“I guess we’ll get home in time for Santa Claus at any rate,” said Bob.
It was several hours after they had said goodbye to their new friends, and they were still several miles from home. Three or four miles an hour was about the best they had been able to make, for they had been obliged to follow behind the slowly moving plow nearly all the way.