"What on earth are we to do?" queries Corny Hadwin in despair.
No one answers her. The boughs wave softly overhead; the small cloud of dust their efforts have raised floats slowly away and settles on the scant herbage underneath the pines. Near at hand sounds the shriek of the "up" train. They are not far from the railroad.
"Shall we give it up and take to the train?" Starrett asks, as they catch the sound of the locomotive.
"Dear me, we mustn't do that!" exclaims Charley. "Let's dismount and push the machines a little way. Perhaps the wheeling is better just ahead."
But it is not. The ruts are strewn with straw, shavings, and chips; everything indicates that the woods are extensive, and that others before them have found the sand a tribulation.
"Oh, this is the worst of all!" groans Corny.
"But we'll not give up, nevertheless," declares little Arno Cummings, developing unexpected grit in the emergency. "I shouldn't like to tell them at Curtin Harbor that we had to take to the cars to get around a difficulty."
Joe mops the perspiration from his dusky brow, and then stops to listen. A creak, a rumble, and a tramp, tramp are heard behind them. "Dar's sumfin a-comin!" says Joe.
The "sumfin" soon appears in sight,—a big, empty, four-horse wagon, making its unwieldy way in their direction. The same idea occurs to everybody at once.
"There! He'll carry us!"