THE WRECKED BRIDGE
“We’ll go into the river!” gasped Nell.
“We can never stop!” came from Amy. “Oh, what shall we do?”
“Keep your seats, girls. Don’t try to jump out,” came crisply from Miss
Alling. “Hold tight, all of you!”
The bridge spanning a small river at the foot of the hill had collapsed,
leaving an unprotected embankment and a four-foot drop to the water
below. At the rate of speed at which the car was going, it seemed as
though nothing short of a miracle could prevent a tragedy.
The girls clutched each other frantically, and Miss Alling’s fingers
tightened on the wheel. With swift presence of mind the lady swerved the
big car from the road, driving it into the woods, crashing recklessly
through bushes and undergrowth. They had missed the drop to the river by
the narrowest of margins.
Behind them they heard Darry cry out, heard another car crash through
the bushes. Their own car, still commanded resolutely by Miss Alling,
bumped along for several yards, careening drunkenly over boulders and
bushes in its path, bringing up finally in about a foot of water and
soft oozing mud. They had met the stream again where it changed its
course and wandered through the forest.
Amy released her tense grip upon Jessie’s arm and straightened up. From
the front seat there came a sound between a sob and a laugh. The author
of the sound was Nell. Miss Alling herself seemed not in the least
perturbed.
“Nasty business,” she said disgustedly, as she eased herself from behind
the wheel and felt for a footing in the wet grass. “Might know I would
end up in a mud hole like this. Well, I guess there is nothing for it
but for us all to get out and push. Give you girls an appetite for
lunch,” she added, with a chuckle.
“Just now I feel as though I would never be able to eat again,” remarked
Nell, the usually calm and collected.
They heard the boys calling to them and the next moment Burd, Darry and
Fol appeared, looking extremely anxious.
“Why the lengthy faces?” cried Amy. “You needn’t look as if we had
already shuffled off this mortal coil. Cheer up, boys, there is lots of
kick in us yet.”
“What shocking slang,” reproved Jessie, with a chuckle. “And just when
you should be making a good impression upon Miss Alling, and
everything.”
“My dear,” spoke up Aunt Emma absently, “if I never had anything worse
than slang to worry about, I should be a very lucky woman. This car! Now
I ask you! Just look at it! Sunk a foot deep in mud and water!”
“It is a rather sorry-looking spectacle,” agreed Burd, adding with a
grin: “But it would be looking a heap worse if it had gone over that
embankment.”
“So should we,” replied Jessie, with a forced laugh.
“The appearance of none of us is likely to be improved at once,” Miss
Alling informed him, with a merry twinkle in her eyes. “You will
probably be liberally spattered with mud—and bad temper—before we get
this car on the state highway again. We’ll have to ford the river.”
“Ford the river!” repeated Jessie, wonderingly. “Is it shallow enough
for that?”
“That remains for us to find out,” returned Miss Alling. “I believe
there is a comparatively shallow place a little further on through the
woods, though.”
“Get a car through this jungle!” groaned Darry. “From where I sit it
looks as impenetrable as an African forest.”
“Well, would you rather sit here and look at each other—or go back
home?” asked Miss Alling, and at this suggestion, which smacked of a
threat, the Radio Girls were stirred to sudden action.
“I should say we don’t want to go home!” said Jessie, stoutly. “We are
going to ford this river if there is a place where it is less than four
feet deep. Tell us what to do, Miss Alling, and we will do it.”
Aunt Emma looked at her approvingly.
“Good!” she said. “That is the kind of talk I like.”
“The first thing to do is to get this car backed out of the mud, I
guess,” suggested Nell, thoughtfully, and Aunt Emma nodded briskly.
“Right you are,” she said. “Bring up the roadster, Darry. And you two
boys,” turning to Burd and Fol, “can help me get some rope from the car.
The rest of you,” she added to the girls, “will have to push!”
Darry brought up the little roadster, puffing and snorting, to within a
few feet of the big car. By this time Burd and Fol had succeeded in
finding a piece of good stout rope under the back seat of the touring
car. It took them only a short time, working together, to fasten the big
car securely to the little one.
“Puts your little bus on its metal, sure enough, Darry,” Burd remarked.
“It will have to pull some to get this big jumbo free.”
“Huh!” cried Aunt Emma, hopping nimbly into the big car and seizing the
wheel with determination, “this big jumbo, as you call it, has a mighty
fine engine. I reckon the strain won’t come altogether on Darry’s
roadster.”
But the undertaking, simple as it had seemed in the beginning, assumed
gigantic proportions as the work progressed. The big car, in reverse,
snorted and roared and puffed—and that was all. The wheels could get no
purchase in the slimy mud. They slid and skidded and accomplished
nothing.
The little roadster, doing its gallant best, was at a disadvantage also,
for the ground was wet and slippery, being sodden because of a recent
storm. Also, the shore sloped sharply down to the edge of the stream, so
that the roadster was trying to carry its heavy load up grade.
The girls and boys put their shoulders to the car and pushed with all
their might, but still it would not budge.
“Well, I guess we are doomed to spend the rest of our natural lives in
this spot,” said Amy, at last, stopping to wipe the perspiration from
her brow. “In the last ten minutes we have not moved the fraction of an
inch. Startling speed.”
“I have an idea,” cried Jessie, suddenly, as the rest stopped for a
moment’s breathing spell. “Why can’t we get that big log over there and
put it in front of the wheels of the roadster. That would keep the car
from slipping backward, anyway.”
“Might try it,” agreed Burd, grudgingly. “But I don’t suppose it will do
much good. What we need is a team of good farm horses,” he added
ruefully.
However, Jessie’s idea of the log did work surprisingly well. It not
only prevented the roadster from slipping, but gave it something to push
against when starting in reverse.
“Now, all together!” cried Jessie, as she once more leaned all her
weight against the car. “It will have to come this time. One, two,
three—go!”
There was the staccato roar of the engine, and with all their strength
Jessie and Amy and Nell and the two boys, leaned against the car.
The roadster, insured against slipping by the log, pulled the rope taut.
Slowly, but steadily and surely, the big car crept backward. The mud and
slime loosed its hold upon the wheels. A moment more, and the big
machine had reached solid ground. The wheels dug savagely into it,
sending the car backward with such force that Miss Alling was forced to
bear down heavily upon the brake to prevent a smash with Darry’s car.
“Hooray, the day is saved!” shouted Burd. Then he added, with a grin, as
he looked at Jessie: “And it was Jessie’s log that saved it.”
“Who cares whose log it was—we’re out! That’s the big thing!” returned
Jessie.
“Sure thing, we’re out!” cried Amy. “Three cheers, boys and girls!
One—two—three——”
The cheers were given, Miss Alling adding her voice to the six more
youthful, and more vociferous, ones.