It was just in time, for the front wheels were almost against a big rotten tree that the gale had blown down across the highway leading toward Dismal Mountain. Tom's attention had been taken momentarily by some of his dashboard gages, so he had not seen the sway of the tree before it fell. But Ned's quick eyes had sensed the danger and had given ample warning.
"Close call, that!" commented Tom, as he leaned back after pulling hard on the emergency brake.
"Don't want 'em any closer," agreed Ned, as he looked through the driving rain at the fallen tree. "If we had gone full tilt into that it might have scratched some of the paint off the House."
"Worse than that," assented Tom. "It's lucky you yelled at me when you did."
"Well, what's the next move?" asked Ned.
"Put on our umbrella clothes and see if we can cut that tree away," suggested Tom. "I don't believe we can very well turn around and I don't want to navigate backward."
"No, it won't be easy," agreed Ned. "Well, let's hop to it. I don't believe there's much traffic on this road, but what there is we don't want to hold up."
"Speaking of hold-ups," said Tom grimly, "maybe we could get some of the hold-up residents of Dismal Mountain to come to our help."
"They don't show up in any great numbers," remarked Ned, as he made his way back into the interior of the car to get his raincoat and rubber boots, which Tom had designated as "umbrella clothes."
They were in a lonely part of the country, in the midst of an extensive piece of woods, it appeared, on a seldom-traveled road, about at the beginning of the big peak known as Dismal Mountain. They had seen no habitation for some time, nor had they met any other travelers, which last was not remarkable, considering the state of the weather.