Bob and Betty strained to their collars; the rope tauntened; the motor car began to squeak and the tree branches to rustle.
“She’s coming!” yelled Billy.
He stood on a limb, clinging to another with one hand. The car started, stuck a little, and then came loose with so sudden a jerk that the bulk of it was dashed against the boy!
“Whoa!” cried Dan; and it was well he stopped the team. Billy was flung off his unstable footing; but he had presence of mind enough to seize the car itself, and so hung on, his body swinging with the auto.
“Are you all right, Billy?” demanded Dan, anxiously.
“Right—oh!” returned the younger boy. “Let her go! I’m coming up with her.”
And he did. In five minutes the scratched automobile was hoisted out of the gulf, and the boys worked it over the farm wagon body. Upon that they lowered it carefully.
It was safe! And as far as Billy and Dan could see, it was not much damaged—not materially so, at least.
They dismantled the derrick and let the posts fall over the cliff, with those that had been cut down in the night. Then Billy went down below again and got the fisherman to help him up the path with the cushions and the rest of the automobile outfit, Dan meanwhile filling up the holes in the bank, and replacing the turf.
Everything once loaded on the wagon, the boys drove away. In passing through the town several people remarked upon the condition of the wrecked vehicle which the boys had purchased of Maxey Solomons, and more than one intimated that the Speedwells had spent their good money for something that neither they—nor anybody else—could make use of!