“We’ll be lucky if the oil in this one lasts,” Doc put in.
Following the stream was difficult enough, but it was easier than the forest they had just come through and they picked their way along its edge, Tom and Garry on one bank and Doc and Connie on the other.
“I don’t believe anyone’s been in this place in a thousand years; that’s the way it looks to me,” said Doc.
“I’d say at least three thousand,” said Garry.
Tom paid no attention. He had paused and was holding his lantern over the stream.
“Those four stones are in a pretty straight line,” he said. “Would you say that was a ford?”
“Looks more like a Buick to me,” said Garry, but he added, “They are in a pretty straight line. I guess it’s a flivver, all right.”
“Look on that side,” said Tom, to the others. “Do you see anything over there?”
He was looking carefully along the edge; of the water when Doc called suddenly,
“Come over here with your light, quick!”