eized the
great rope dangling between the two cars. Mr. Catt, resigning his
wheel to the driver of the next machine in line, followed Mr. Haskell's
example, and with three or four of the other men of the party, they
added their strength to that of the machine, and pulled with all their
might. Myra, at the wheel, was in her element, and putting on full
power, she gave the lever a vicious jerk. The car leaped forward like
a thing alive, and bounded up the opposite bank at break-neck speed.

"Ah!" she cried in triumph, "I knew I could get her started. I'm a
bird!"

"Oh, Daddy," shrieked Tabitha's voice from the rear seat. "Let go, oh,
let go! Mr. Haskell, you'll be killed!"

"Myra, you chump!" hissed Gwynne in her ear. "Shut that thing off!
The rope's bu'sted and you are dragging our precious men folks uphill."

Myra glanced hastily behind her, reversed the wheel, and as the car
came to a standstill, she sprawled across the seat, doubled up with
merriment, half hysterical. "Oh, didn't they look funny hanging onto
that rope? What fools some mortals be! Why didn't they let go? Bet
Dad's got his nose skinned good, for when I looked back, he was plowing
up the road on his head. Is he hurt? I don't dast to ask! Mr. Catt,
your clothes are pretty dusty."

"Dusty I'll admit, but not very pretty," he smiled grimly, as he wiped
the perspiration from his grimy face. "However, you got the car out of
the rut, so perhaps we can proceed on our way now."

"Then it might be wise if I resigned my seat to the chauffeur before I
am requested," chuckled Myra, still laughing immoderately at thought of
her father's undignified attitude as he was dragged through the dust,
clinging desperately to the frayed end of the broken rope. So she
scrambled nimbly to her place on the running board, and there Mr.
Haskell found her sitting prim and decorous when he had finally
recovered his breath and made himself sufficiently presentable to face
the rest of the party.

"Your nose is a little--soiled," she told him, as he climbed stiffly
into his seat, "and somewhat scrubbed, I'm afraid."

Her voice shook a little in spite of her efforts to control her mirth,
and he scowled darkly at his irrepressible daughter, though he only
said, "Are you all ready?"

So again the procession of autos took up their journey, and with no
further accident finally reached the great walnut ranch where the
Haskell family lived during the summer. The ros