In fact, it seemed to be sinking more deeply in the mud.
“We’ve got to do something and do it quick,” declared Bart, “if we don’t, the mud hole may swallow our gasolene gig, and then we’d die of thirst afore we could reach a settlement.”
They desperately tugged and heaved once more, but their efforts were of no avail.
“I’ve got an idea,” suddenly exclaimed Frank; “maybe if we hitch the _Golden Eagle_ to the rope it will help.”
“It’s worth trying, and we’ve got to do something,” agreed Bart. “Come on, then. Couple up.”
The rope was attached to the lower frame of the _Golden Eagle_, and while they all hauled Frank started up the engine of the aeroplane. For a second or so the propellers of the _Golden Eagle_ beat the air without result, then suddenly the boys’ throats were rent with a loud “Hurrah,” as the auto budged a tiny bit. Not far from the trail were the ruins of an old hut. Several stout beams were still standing upright amid the debris.
He seized up an axe from the heap of camp kit that had been hastily thrown on the ground and started for the ruins. In a few minutes he was back with four stout levers.
By using these, they managed to raise the auto still more, and wedge the wheels under with other bits of timber obtained from the demolished hut. Then the aeroplane was started up once more, and this time the auto, with a loud cheer, was dragged clear of the treacherous hole.
“We’ll just stick up a bit of timber here to warn any one else that comes along,” declared Bart, as he fixed a tall timber in the ground where it would attract the attention of any traveler coming along the road.
Soon after this, a start was made, and the aeroplane and the auto made good time across the blazing hot plain. All the afternoon they traveled until Billy Barnes fairly cried out for a stop.
“I’m so thirsty I could die,” he declared.
“Then get a drink,” recommended Bart Witherbee, indicating the zinc water tank under the tonneau seat.
“It’s empty,” said Lathrop. “I tried it a little while ago.”
“Empty,” echoed Witherbee, his face growing grave. “Here, let’s have a look at that map, youngster, and see where’s our next watering place.”
Billy Barnes, with a look of comical despair, handed it over. “I’ll have to wait for a drink of water till we get to a town, I suppose. What do you want the map for, Bart?”