On account of the condition
of this rough forest road the speed was slow.
"If Tag hasn't been to your camp within three nights," said Mr.
Simmons, leaning back while Mr. Valden ran the car, "then it's
because he isn't in this neighborhood. So we'll travel on a few
miles before we stop to do any real searching."
"I don't understand how you can expect to find anyone out here
in the night time," Dick observed.
"I've some plans in my mind," was all the explanation Simmons
offered.
When the road became a little better, Valden put on a bit more
speed.
"Better slow down," advised Simmons presently. "There's a bridge
ahead that isn't any, too strong."
That bridge was closer than the deputy thought. Just then the
automobile top brushed heavily against foliage in making a wooded
turn in the road.
"There's the bridge!" yelled Simmons almost excitedly. "Slow
down---stop!"
Valden tried to obey, but the bridge was altogether too close
for stopping in time. Out over the planks ran the car.
R-r-rip! Crash!
Some of the boards were already missing from the rude bridge.
Others gave way almost like paper. Down through the structure
fell the car, then landed with a splash, overturning to the accompaniment
of cries of fright and of pain from its occupants.
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