"I wonder now if she don't sing, mebby ?" He started the car and forged out to them, making the last few rods in low gear and knowing how risky it was to stop.

They were rather helpless, he had to admit, and did all the standing around while Casey did all the work.

But he shoveled the rear wheels out, waded back to the tiny island of solid ground and gathered an armful of brush, which he crowded in front of the wheels, covering himself with mud thereby; then he tied the tow rope he carried for emergencies like this, waded to the Ford, cranked and trusted the rest to luck.

The Ford moved slowly ahead until the rope between the two cars tightened, then spun her wheels and proceeded to dig herself in where she stood.

The other car, shaking with the tremor of its own engine, ruthlessly ground the sagebrush into the mud and stood upon it roaring and spluttering furiously.
"Nothing like sticking together, Mister," called the lady cheerfully, and he heard her laughter above the churn of their motors.
"Say, ain't your carburetor all off ?" Casey leaned out to call back to the husband.