“I’m going to try,” Mr. Hatfield said grimly. “I should have waited.”
Shifting into reverse, he slowly backed away from the stalled coupe.
The two cars, however, had churned up high waves. As they slapped against Mr. Hatfield’s automobile, the engine began to sputter.
“Oh! Oh!” groaned Fred. “Here we go.”
The next instant the motor gave a final wheeze and died.
“Come on, fellows, let’s push!” Brad urged, starting to open the door.
“No, wait!” Mr. Hatfield directed. “I don’t want you to wreck your clothes unless it’s absolutely necessary. Someone may come along to help—”
The Cub leader’s voice trailed off, for his attention had been drawn once more to the stalled car ahead.
Quite suddenly, the door on the left hand side had swung open.
A boy who might have been twelve or thirteen fairly hurled himself from the car.