A tire had blown out.
But this did not appear to worry the driver. The car canted far over on one side, lurched forward, and then came down on all four wheels with a terrific impact.
The boys were badly shaken up. They tried to brace themselves against the sides of the locker, but this was of little use as the roadster's bumpy and erratic progress inevitably dislodged them. They were thrown against one another, bounced from side to side, bruised and battered.
It was apparent to them that the roadster was being driven over some rocks—not the boulders of the beach, but over a rocky section of ground where there was no road.
They shielded their heads with their arms as well as they could, to prevent themselves from being knocked senseless against the sides of the locker. The speed of the car slackened. Then they felt a long series of short, sharp bumps, as though the car were being driven over pebbles. Stones banged against the mudguards.
"We're on the beach," reflected Frank.
They did not suffer the jouncing and jolting that had given them such discomfort a short time previously. The car traveled along the beach for a short distance, then turned to the left and ran quietly and smoothly over what the boys judged to be a stretch of sand. It then began to climb. The ascent flung the lads against the back of the locker.
It was of short duration, however.
The roadster came to level ground again, then rattled and rumbled on over an uneven surface.
The boys noticed a peculiar, hollow sound. The roar of the motor seemed to be echoing from all sides. The car had slowed down, and at last it came to a stop.