"You'll have to help the team," George told him, as he went to the
horses' heads.

Edgar and the hired man each seized a wheel and endeavored to start the
vehicle, while the horses plunged in the slipping sand. They made a
few yards, with clouds of grit flying up about them, and afterward came
to a stop again. Next they tried pushing; and after several rests they
arrived, breathless and gasping, at the crest of the rise. There was a
big hollow in front, and on the opposite side a ridge which looked
steeper than the last one.

"How much do you think there is of this?" Edgar inquired.

"I can't say," George answered. "I know of one belt that runs for
forty miles."

Even walking downhill was laborious, for they sank ankle-deep, but it
was very much worse when they faced the ascent. Short as the hill was,
it took them some time to climb; and, with the hired man's assistance,
Edgar carried a heavy trunk up the last part of it. Then he sat down.

"I'm not sure I can smoke, but I intend to try," he said. "If you mean
to rush the next hill right off, you will go without me." He turned to
the hired man. "What do you think of these roads, Grierson?"

"I've seen better, sir," the other answered cautiously. "Perhaps the
hills don't go on very far."

Edgar ruefully glanced ahead at scattered pines, clumps of brush, and
ridges of gleaming sand.