"Listen." Professor Prescott pointed to the left. "The sound seems to be coming from over there."
And sure enough, from the left came a wheezing grind of a car making a heavy grade.
"Near, too," decided Stoddard. "Come on—let's go! We've got to head it off. It's our only hope, except—"
With relief, he shoved his automatic back into its holster and led the way in the direction of the now rapidly nearing car.
hundred yards they had made, up a slight rise, when there spread before them a rutted mountain road, and on it, in full view, was a laboring Ford of ancient vintage.
Over the wheel hovered a lanky, leathery native, and beside him sat a small, plump woman who looked as though she might be his wife.
They were almost to the top of the hill when Stoddard hailed them.
"Say!" he said. "Give us a ride, will you? We're lost."