The Shark took thought for a moment or two. Then he glanced at his watch.
“We’ve been out six hours and——”
Sam groaned. “Six? I feel as if it was nearer twenty-four!”
“It’s six. We traveled fast at the start, but we’ve been crawling lately. Call it twelve miles, all told.”
“Oh, more than that!”
“Huh! Guess yourself, then!”
“But even twelve ought to bring us somewhere. And the farms stretch some distance this side of Coreytown.”
“Umph!” was the Shark’s non-committal comment.
Sam glanced ahead. They were nearing the mouth of the ravine, beyond which the ground appeared to fall sharply. Again he turned to the Shark.
“Never saw a fiercer storm,” said he.