“It did seem to tickle him, seeing us stalled here, and likely to stay for goodness knows how long,” admitted Bud, frowning.
Hugh took more stock in the theory the longer he considered it. Although at first it may have seemed far-fetched, just as he had remarked, “familiarity did not breed contempt” in this case.
“Well, there’s nothing to be done but, get our engine running again, if we can,” he said, while Bud was hammering noisily under the body of the car. “If, in the end, that fails, we’ll try and think up some other scheme, for the more difficulties that crop up in our path, the more stubborn we become.”
“Oh! thank you for saying that, Hugh!” exclaimed Blake. “I know mighty well that when you’ve set your teeth, and start in to win, something is bound to come from it. I was beginning to get discouraged, but, say, that’s passing away now, and I seem to be drawing in my second wind.”
Just then there came a whoop from underneath the car.
“Cheer up, fellows!” called out a muffled voice.
“Do you think you’ve found out how to fix her up so she’ll work again, Bud?” cried Blake, his face aglow with renewed hope.
“Watch my smoke, that’s all,” was the reassuring reply, followed by additional pounding; and presently Bud wriggled out from his confined quarters, a sight to behold, so far as face and hands and discolored duster were concerned; but Hugh paid little or no attention to these things, because he saw that a huge grin decorated the greasy countenance of his chum.
Some more pottering followed. Then Bud gave the crank a few turns. There was no response, and evidently the balky engine still declined to behave itself. Nothing daunted, Bud tried a second, and then a third time. When still once more he flirted with the crank there came a sudden roar, and sure enough the car rocked under the pulsations of the conquered motor.
“Hurrah! you’ve done it, Bud, sure you have!” cried the happy Blake, as he danced up and down in his excitement.