On went the auto, the boys and the professor clinging to it for dear life, while Bruin hung on, half crazed with fear and anger.
“How you going to get rid of him?” shouted Ned above the roar of the storm.
“I’ll show you,” replied Jerry grimly.
Some distance ahead the steersman had seen a sharp curve in the road. It was dimly discernible through the mist of water.
“Hold tight everybody!” shouted Jerry a second or two before the turn was reached.
Then, suddenly swinging around it, at as sharp an angle as he dared to make and not overturn the car, Jerry sent the auto skidding. The next instant, unable to stand the impetus of the turn, the bear lost its hold on the hood, and was flung, like a stone from a catapult, far off to the left, rolling over and over on the muddy ground.
“There, I guess it will be quite a while before he tries to eat up another live automobile,” remarked Jerry as he slowed up a bit.
Off in the distance they heard a sort of reproachful whine, as if Bruin objected to such treatment. Then the rain came down harder than ever, and all sight of the bear was lost.
“Let’s get out of this!” exclaimed Ned, as he felt a small stream of water trickling down his back. “Can’t we strike for those woods we saw a while ago?”
“I’m headed for them,” spoke Jerry. “I just want to get my bearings. Guess we’d better light up, as it will soon be dusk.”