"Got to be careful here unless we want to get a puncture," announced Tom, and at once reduced speed.
They were running on another winding road which seemed to bear off to the northward. Here there was something of a cliff, with great, rocky boulders standing out in bold relief.
Suddenly, as Tom reached a bend, he saw a man coming towards them. He was an Italian, and carried a small red flag in one hand.
"Back! You-a git-a back!" cried the man, waving his red flag at them. "Blas'! Blas'! You git-a back!"
The grade was downward and the man had appeared so suddenly that before Tom could bring the first automobile to a standstill he had gotten at least a hundred feet beyond the Italian, while the second car, run by Dick, was by the man's side.
"What's the trouble here?" demanded Dick.
"You git-a back! You git-a back!" exclaimed the Italian, frantically. "Blas' go off! You git-a back!"
"Hi, Tom, come back here!" yelled Dick. "This fellow says there is a blast going off."
Tom was already trying to heed the warning. He had stopped so suddenly, however, that he had stalled his engine and now he had to take time in which to use the electric starter. In the meanwhile, the Italian workman ran still farther back, to warn Chester Waltham and anybody else who might be coming along the road.
"Oh, Tom! can you turn around?" questioned his wife anxiously.