It was not long before the fugitive and those behind him reached a section of the long bridge which was far from completed. Here there was practically no flooring, and Ward Porton had to jump from one piece of steel work to another, while Dave and Roger, of course, had to do the same. Once those in the rear saw the rascal ahead make a misstep and plunge downward. But he saved himself, and, scrambling to his feet, dashed forward as madly as before.
“Take care, Dave, it’s dangerous here,” gasped Roger; and scarcely had he spoken when he himself made a misstep and shot down below the level of the bridge flooring.
Dave was several feet in advance, but turned 255 instantly when his chum let out a cry of alarm. He saw Roger four or five feet below him, clinging frantically to one of the stays of the bridge.
“Hel––help m––me!” panted the unfortunate youth.
“Hold tight, Roger. I’ll help you,” returned Dave, quickly.
“Hold tight, Roger! I’ll help you,” returned Dave, quickly.––Page 255.
The stay below was so small in diameter that all Roger could do was to cling to it with both hands and one leg. In this position he hung until Dave let himself down several feet and managed to give him a hand. Then with extreme caution both worked their way back to the unfinished flooring of the bridge.
“Oh my! I thought sure I was a goner!” panted the senator’s son, when he found himself safe once more. He had turned white and he was trembling from head to foot.