Before any one could do anything, had it been possible, the car was at the dangerous descent. Simpson drew in his breath sharply and grasped the steering wheel with firmer grip.
"Whew!" whistled Paul Drew. "This is awful!"
Dick said nothing, but he moved up closer to his father. Fear was clutching his heart, for he dreaded lest that all be killed.
"This is about the end!" gasped the driver, as the steeper part of the hill came to an end. "The worst is over."
The cadets could now look ahead, and see a level stretch. They were beginning to breathe easier.
"Once I'm on that I'll be all right," went on the driver. He reached it a moment later, but the speed of the ponderous car was not checked much. It had too great momentum.
Suddenly Dick gave a cry of fear, and pointed forward. They all saw it at the same time. Three hundred feet away was a narrow bridge and at that moment there appeared on it, turning in from a side road, a man driving a team of horses attached to a light carriage. And, as the cadets looked, the horses seemed possessed with sudden fright at the view of the oncoming auto. They reared, and the driver had all he could do to hold them in.
Then one animal, worse than its mate, kicked over the traces and, coming down, got tangled in the harness. It fell heavily, right in the centre of the bridge, dragging down its mate. The man leaped out to go to the heads of the horses, and, as he saw the approaching auto he held up his hand and shouted a warning.
"Stop! Stop!" he cried.
"I can't!" yelled back Simpson. "Cut the harness! Push the horses off the bridge!"