Just a few yards away, he spied a culvert. It had been poorly constructed and a bad bump was inevitable. It was suicidal to take it at their present speed.
He desperately tried to slacken pace, but the machine reached the rise in the road in a moment, lurched over it, seemed to leap through the air, and then hit the road again with a crash. There was a tremendous jolt.
Frank's grip was almost torn from the handlebars, but he held on tightly. Joe had grasped him tightly around the waist and still retained his seat.
The motorcycle swerved, skidded wildly, and headed toward the ditch.
But Frank had set himself for the shock of going over the culvert and he acted almost instinctively.
Had he been unprepared he would certainly have lost control of the motorcycle and both he and Joe might have been killed. He swung the hurtling machine back into mid-road again just when it seemed that it was about to crash into the deep ditch. He did not slacken speed, for that would have meant a dangerous skid.
By skillful handling, he settled the machine on the smoothest part of the road again and it roared on down the stretch.
The fugitive, too, seemed to be having trouble. The motorcycle ahead was lurching and bouncing in an alarming manner and its speed had slackened. Frank's experienced eye saw that the thief had encountered a rough and treacherous piece of road that ran for about half a mile before it met the main highway.
Suddenly they saw the machine swerve wildly and go completely over on its side. The driver was thrown into the middle of the road.
"He's done for!" Frank shouted.