"Kidnaped!" whispered Frank exultantly.
Once on the road, the car set off at rapidly increasing speed through the storm. The man at the wheel was evidently an expert driver, for he got every ounce of power the engine was capable of, and held the roadster to the highway. The roar of the motor could be heard high above the drumming of the rain.
In the darkness of the locker, the boys sat tight, not knowing where the car was going, not knowing how long this wild journey might last. They kept alert for any turns from the Shore Road, realizing that they might have to find their way back by memory.
For above five minutes, the car held to the Shore Road, and then suddenly swerved to the right.
Neither of the boys had any recollection of a side road in this part of the country, and they were immediately surprised. However, by the violent lurching and jolting of the roadster they were soon aware that they were on no traveled thoroughfare and that they were descending a slope over rough ground. There was a loud swishing of branches and the sharp snapping of twigs, that indicated the roadster was passing through the woods.
The man at the wheel was driving more carefully now that he was off the Shore Road and comparatively safe from observation. He was evidently following a road of sorts, although the car swerved and jolted unmercifully, but at length he came to even more precarious ground.
The rear of the roadster went high in the air and came down with a crash. Frank and Joe were flung violently to the bottom of the locker, and Frank felt a most stunning blow on the head.
Thud!
Another terrific jolt. The car pitched and tossed like a ship in a storm.
Bang!