Doyle looked at his watch with a disgusted expression.
“We’ve wasted another half hour—” he began.
From far down the road came the roar of a fast traveling automobile. Flash and Doyle both turned to stare.
A car raced toward the bridge at seventy miles an hour. It struck a dip in the road where water flowed, and the tires sent up a great muddy sheet. With undiminished speed, the automobile sped on.
At the bridge, guards leaped into action, shouting and waving their red flags to draw attention to the barrier.
The driver could not fail to see that the bridge entrance was blocked. Still the car roared on. Flash suddenly comprehended the reason. The man was being pursued by a state highway police car. If he halted for the bridge, it meant capture!
“There’s our picture, Doyle!” he shouted. “Get ready!”
The car struck the barrier with a resounding crash. Boards splintered like so much match wood, but scarcely slowed down the daring driver. Bridge girders rattled and planks pounded as the automobile plunged on.
Nothing happened for a moment. And then a cry of horror arose from the crowd of spectators.
“It’s going out!”