people wot lived heah. Now de mill ain't runnin' an' de people moved away, da ain't much use fo' the road, an' nobuddy ain't gwine to put up de bridge—an' Ike Henry, dat's me, has got to tote things 'round by de udder road after dis!" he added ruefully.
"Well, we can't bother about the bridge," replied Dick. "The authorities can fight it out with those fellows who are running the auto."
"But the shots?" queried Sam. He had dropped on a flat rock to rest.
"We tried to hit the tires—but we failed," explained Tom. "The auto was moving too fast, and the trees and bushes were in the way. Besides, we didn't want to hit the girls."
Dick and Tom walked down to the stream. It was not very deep and they concluded that they could easily get to the other side, by leaping from one bit of wreckage to another, thus keeping from getting wet, for at that season of the year the water was decidedly cold.
"Let us go over and climb to the top of the tnext hill," said Dick. "We may be able to see which direction the auto takes."
The others were willing, and telling the colored man to wait a while for them, and promising him good pay, they climbed over the sunken bridge to the other shore of the stream. Then they raced
