before the wind turns her
over!"

All set to work, and, not without great difficulty, they managed to run
the biplane directly between several trees and some clumps of bushes.

"Fasten every rope well," sang out Dick. "Unless I miss my guess, this
is going to be a corker of a blow!"

"I don't think it will be as bad as it was during that hailstorm,"
answered Tom. "But it is bad enough."

The ropes were all well secured, and then the boys breathed easier. Down
on the ground the wind did not appear to be so powerful, and they felt
that, unless it increased greatly, the _Dartaway_ way would be safe in
her berth among the trees and bushes.

"Well, what's the next move?" questioned Sam, after they had rested for
a moment from their labors.

"I hardly know what to say," answered his eldest brother. "We can hardly
follow that auto on foot."

"The worst of it is, it will be growing dark before long," put in Tom.
"What are we going to do then? I thought we'd catch up to that auto long
before this."

They talked the matter over, but could arrive at no satisfactory
conclusion.

"I'm almost sorry we came down," said Dick. "We might have gotten
through--although the wind is worse than it was."

"No, we couldn't do anything in this wind,--we'd simply wreck the
_Dartaway_," said Sam. "But come on, let's go as far as we can. We can
come back for the biplane any time."

While under such a strain of mind, the boys could not remain quiet, and
so they set off through the woods in the direction of the road. It was
hard walking, and several times they had to literally force their way
through the brushwood. Then they came to a swamp and had to make a
detour, for fear of getting stuck in the mud. When they at last reached
the road they were well-nigh exhausted.

"I'll have to rest just a minute!" panted Sam. "Say, that was something
fierce, wasn't it?" And he sank on a rock.

"Listen! I think I hear somebody coming!" cried Dick.

All strained their ears, and presently made out the sounds of a farm
wagon moving slowly over the rocky roadway that was hidden by the trees.
Then the turnout came into view, loaded with freshly-cut cord wood, and
drawn by a pair of bony, white horses. On the seat of the wagon sat an
aged colored man, talking volubly to his team.

"Hello there, uncle!" cried Dick, as the wagon came closer. "Stop a
minute, I want to talk to you."

"What you-all wants?" demanded the colored man nervously, for the s