"I don't know, Phil; but from the look on Nat Poole's face I should think——" And then Dave stopped short.
"What?"
"Well, never mind now. I may be wrong, and there is no use of worrying. Come on, let us get to the Falls,—and try to forget that crowd." And so speaking, Dave started up the touring car he was running, and followed in the direction Pete Barnaby had taken, and Roger came after him.
The meeting at the tavern had disturbed all of the girls, and the boys had hard work trying to cheer them up and make them forget the unpleasant encounter. Everybody felt that there was "something in the air," but each person hated to mention it to the others.
Presently Dave reached the point where they would have to take to a side road that was deep with dust and hemmed in on both sides by rocks and bushes. Here, in the dust, could plainly be seen the marks of another automobile.
"Think they came this way, Dave?" questioned Sam.
"Yes,—although some other folks may be at the Falls on an outing."
"Oh, I hope we don't meet them again!" said Belle Endicott. The two machines were running slowly and close together.
They passed on around a long curve, and over a small hill, and then came in sight of the river, glistening in the sunshine between the trees. From a distance came the roar of the Falls, where a fairly large body of water rushed steadily over the rocks.
"Isn't it a shame that they are going to use the Falls for a mill!" said one of the girls.