Tom carried a set of emergency tools in his House on Wheels and among these were a couple of axes. In a short time he and Ned, fortified against the elements, which appeared to be doing their worst just now, were attacking the fallen tree with their sharp tools.
Fortunately the tree was pretty well rotted, and though it was large in diameter, the trunk was punk-like in its character and the axes easily bit into it. Chopping out small sections, the two travelers dragged them to one side of the road until at last, after an hour's work, they had cleared a passage for their auto and for any other vehicles that might follow.
"Though if there are any other people foolish enough to drive up here in a storm like this, they ought to be made to chop their own trees," commented Tom, as he got back on the seat.
"It wasn't so bad when we started up here," Ned reminded his chum.
"Oh, I'm not kicking!" Tom made haste to say. "I'm just talking to hear my own voice. Whew, it's going to be a nasty night!"
"It already is one!" declared Ned, for darkness was rapidly falling and they had no idea of what lay beyond them.
"Want to stay here?" asked Tom, always willing to give in on the matter of stopping for the night.
"No, the road's too narrow in case anything else comes along, though I don't believe it will. Let's push on, and maybe we'll get to some decent place where we can pull up."
The motor, which had been stopped while the fallen tree was being chopped away, was again put in motion and once more the House on Wheels began the gradual but steady ascent that led up Dismal Mountain, by this time in the young men's minds, a veritable mountain of mystery.
For about a mile the road was fairly good and firm. After that either the highway had not been kept in repair or the heavy rain was washing it away rapidly, for the House on Wheels careened from one rut into another until it was swaying like a circus camel in the parade.