She clambered out, too, and watched him inspect the hollows into which the car had run. Then he climbed in again and started with all his power on. The back wheels spun around without traction. They could not grip the smooth snow and each movement plowed their trap deeper. He shut off the power again.
“You can’t get out,” said Horatia interestedly.
“Oh, yes, I can.”
Anthony stripped off his coat and went off into the woods. He came back with a great bundle of fir boughs that he strewed under the wheels, making a pathway forward and backward. Then from somewhere in the car he produced a shovel and dug the snow away from the wheels.
“Let me help,” begged Horatia.
“Climb into the car and keep warm.”
“I will not be a parasite.”
“Then push those branches under the wheels while I dig.”
They worked together quietly for a while. Again he started and again the wheels were impotent.
“At it again,” cried Anthony.