The car, after hesitating several times as though undecided what to do next, finally came to an unmistakable stop. The rear wheels, although equipped with heavy chains, spun around for a moment and then they also stopped.
“Looks as though we’re stuck, Mike.”
The words came from a boy in the front seat, but they were lost to the driver in the roar of the wind as it drove the blinding snow against the windows of the sedan.
The speaker tried again.
“Looks as though we’re stuck, Mike.”
This time he shouted at the top of his voice and the driver turned his head.
“Stuck is right, begorra,” he shouted back. “Sure and it’s meself that’s been expecting it fer the last half hour, an’ how could ye expect inything on wheels to git through sich drifts, I dunno.”
“How about a shovel, Mike?”
The question came from a second boy in the back seat and it also was shouted with all the strength of a sound pair of lungs.
“Sure and I’ve got a shovel, do yez expect to dig all the way to Skowhegan?”