"Guess so," called back Mr. Bobbsey, "but we don't see the ocean yet."

"Oh, we'll get there," drawled Hank, lazily.

"We should have gone all the way by train," declared Mrs. Bobbsey, in
alarm, as the stage gave one squeak louder than the others.

"Haven't you got any lanterns?" shouted Mr. Bobbsey to Hank, for it
was pitch-dark now.

"Never use one," answered the driver. "When it's good and dark the
moon will come up, but we'll be there 'fore that. Get 'long there,
Doll!" he called to one horse. "Go 'long, Kit!" he urged the other.

The horses did move a little faster at that, then suddenly something
snapped and the horses turned to one side.

"Whoa! Whoa!" called Hank, jerking on the reins. But it was too late!
The stage coach was in a hole! Several screamed.

"Sit still!" called Mr. Bobbsey to the excited party. "It's only a
broken shaft and the coach can't upset now."

Flossie began to cry. It was so dark and black in that hole.

Hank looked at the broken wagon.

"Well, we're done now," he announced, with as little concern as if the
party had been safely landed on Aunt Emily's piazza, instead of in a
hole on the roadside.