he added, which was true enough.
“Wa’al, ef he wants it, that’s a different thing,” replied the constable, who evidently recognized that Fenn had some rights in the matter, since the injured persons had been carried to the lad’s house.
“I guess we’ve got ropes enough,” spoke Bart. “The next thing is to get some pulleys and find something strong enough to stand the strain. I guess that big oak tree will do. Who knows where we can get some pulleys?”
“There are some at our house,” said Fenn. “The painters left them there when they finished the job last week. I can get them.”
“Good!” cried Bart. “You get ’em, and we’ll get the ropes in shape.”
When Fenn returned with the pulleys he found that his chums had taken several turns of one of the ropes about a tree, that was to stand the strain of hauling the auto back on firm ground. The pulleys were arranged so as to give more power to the hauling force, and then, the cables having been cautiously fastened to the back of the auto, Bart gave the word, and half a score of boys assisted the chums in heaving on the rope.
There was a long pull, a strong pull, and a pull altogether, but the auto never budged.
“Once more!” cried Bart.
“Hold on!” a voice urged, and the boys, and others in the crowd saw a telephone lineman approaching.
“That wire holds the wheels!” he explained, pointing to where the wire from the fence was entangled in the spokes. “You fellows hold on the rope and I’ll cut it for you!”
Drawing out a big pair of cutters he crawled under the rear of the auto, and, lying on his back, proceeded to sever the wire strands.
“Keep the rope taut!” urged Bart. “When the wire is cut there’ll be a heavy strain.”
The boys, and several men who had taken hold of the hempen cable, braced themselves. There was a snap, as the cutters went through the wire.
“Look out!” cried the lineman.
There was a creaking of the ropes. A sudden strain came on them, so powerful, that those holding the strands felt the hemp slipping through their fingers.
“She’s going over the cliff!” cried Bart. “Hold her, boys! Hold her!”
CHAPTER IV
PLANNING A CRUISE
Farther and farther over the cliff slid the heavy auto. The boys and men, holding the rope, were pulled slowly along, as is a losing team in a tug-of-war.
“Snub your rope, boys!” a voice suddenly called. “Snub her! That’s the only way to hold her back! Take a half hitch around that stump, and you’ll have her! She’s got a little too much way on for you! Snub her! Snub her, I say!”
Bart gave one glance at the man who had called these directions. He saw a short, squatty figure, wearing a dark blue cap, with some gold braid on it. One glance was enough to show that the man knew what he was talking about.
Bart let go his grip of the rope. The auto slipped a little faster then, for there were not so many hands holding it. But Bart knew what he was doing. He grabbed the free end of the rope and, following the directions of the newcomer, who aided him, he took a couple of turns about a big stump. This “snubbed” or slowed up the progress of the ponderous car, and a moment later it came to a stop.
“Now you’ve got her!” exclaimed the squatty man. “She’ll hold until you can get a couple of teams to haul her back. You can’t do it alone. Too much steam needed!”
“That’s where you’re right, Captain Wiggs!” remarked Constable Darby. “I was jest a goin’ t’ tell th’ boys that myself, but it’s better t’ have th’ advice come from a regular sea-farin’ person I s’pose.”
“I’m no sea-faring person,” replied the captain. “The Great Lakes are good enough for me, but those who cruise on them know a thing or two, even if they’re not of the salt water.”
“Your advice came just in time, Captain,” said Ned, for the boys knew the commander of the steamer Modoc, which was one of the Great Lakes fleet of freight carriers, and occasionally tied up at Darewell.
“I should say it did,” added Frank. “My arms are nearly pulled off.”
“I’ll go up the street and see if I can get a couple of men to bring their teams here and haul the auto up,” volunteered Fenn. “I guess Mr. Hayward will pay them.”
The others thought this suggestion a good one, and, in a short time Fenn returned with two men, who each drove two powerful horses.
The animals were hitched to the rope and, after a little pulling and hauling, under the direction of Captain Wiggs, who naturally took charge, the auto was hauled back to the street, not much damaged from the plunge over the cliff.
The crowd stood around for some time longer, looking at the touring car until Fenn had the men haul it to a barn near his house. The boys would have liked to have run it themselves, but, as they knew very little about cars, and as they were not sure of the condition of the machinery of this one, they decided the slower method of propulsion would be best.
In the morning there was a great improvement in the condition of Mr. Hayward and his daughter, Ruth. In fact Ruth could be up, Dr. Fanwood said, though she must not exert herself.
That afternoon after school the three chums wanted Fenn to go for a walk, but he made some excuse and hurried home. He found Miss Ruth, who looked prettier than ever he thought, sitting in the parlor in an easy chair.
“I don’t believe I thanked you and your friends for what you did for my father and myself,” she said, with a smile, as she held out her hand to Fenn.
“Oh, it isn’t necessary – I mean we didn’t do anything – ” and poor Fenn became much confused. “I – er – that is we – saw the auto go over and we hurried out.”
“Oh, it was awful!” exclaimed Ruth, “I thought I was going to be killed! It was terrible!”
“It was a lucky escape,” murmured Fenn, sympathetically, wondering if the girl would make any reference to the cave she had raved about.
But she did not, and, after asking Fenn to bring his three chums, that she might thank them personally, she went back to her room.
“I wish I dared ask her about that mysterious cave,” thought Fenn. “There’s something back of it all, I’m sure. She acts as if she was afraid I’d find it out.”
A few days later Mr. Hayward was able to be up, and after that his recovery was rapid. He explained to Fenn, and the boy’s parents, that he was in the timber business, and had some mining interests. His daughter’s health was not of the best, he added, and, in the hope of improving it, he had taken her on a long auto trip. They intended to go to Maine, and camp in the woods, and were on their way there when the accident happened.
“I’m sure I can’t thank you for all you have done for me,” said Mr. Hayward, looking at Fenn and his parents. “Those other boys, too; my daughter tells me there were three of your chums who helped.”
“Oh, we didn’t do so much,”
