“Darry has gone on ahead,” observed Mark, looking down the road.
“He’s off for a ride now!” cried Sam. “My, see him go!”
“He is foolish to ride so fast in this sun,” said the professor, half angrily. “Darry, come back!”
But the call did not reach the flying youth, and he was soon out of sight. Scarcely had he disappeared when Enrique Morano gave a start.
“We must stop him,” he ejaculated. “We must stop him before it is too late.”
“Too late?” came from the others in alarm.
“Yes, too late. Below here are two roads and he may take the wrong one and go to the old bridge, which is worn out and not safe.”
“Come!” The word came from the professor and without ado he urged his horse forward at twice the speed they had formerly employed. Enrique Morano rode beside him and the boys brought up closely in the rear.
About half the distance to the old bridge was covered when the noise of the explosion reached their ears. Professor Strong gazed inquiringly at his old college friend.
“What can that mean, Morano?”