"There is what is left of the bridge over yonder," cried the girl, pointing with her hand.
The Rovers looked in that direction and saw a few sticks of timber sticking out of the swirling waters, which were running down stream as turbulently as ever.
"I don't think there is any use of looking for Chester around that bridge," was Tom's remark. "Most likely he was carried down stream—how far there is no telling. I think the best thing we can do is to take a look farther down."
"That is just my opinion," returned his older brother. "I think you had better return to the autos. It won't do any good for you to remain out in this storm," he continued to the girl.
When the party got back to the cars they found a farmer and his grown son standing by the machines.
"I was just telling the ladies you had better run your automobiles up to my place," said the farmer. "It's about ten or fifteen feet higher than this, and, consequently, just so much safer. Besides, the ladies can come into the house."
"We want to find this young lady's brother. He was swept off the bridge yonder," returned Dick.
"So the ladies were telling me," returned James Barlow. "You come up to the house, and I'll go out with you. We've got a big rowboat that may come in handy. Say! ain't this some storm? Worst let-down I've ever seen in these parts."