“Probably didn’t know the bridge was out. Not many cars go over this road, and it would not be exceptional for this to go unnoticed for quite a while.”
“We’ll sure make a report of it,” said Bob, getting to his feet and brushing off his mud-stained trousers.
Joe laughed unwillingly.
“That’ll be like locking the barn after the horse has been stolen,” he grunted. “Come on,” he went on, “let’s go over to the river bank and see if we can catch a glimpse of the coupé.”
The youths walked over and stared into the swiftly moving water. It had rained in torrents two days before, and the river was now almost a rapids.
“Car’s nowhere in sight,” said Joe Lewis gloomily. “But”—his face lighting suddenly—“it’s insured. So I guess there’s no use worrying.”
“Maybe not about the automobile. But how are we going to get back to Washington?”
“We’ll have to hike to the main highway, I guess,” Joe answered. “It’s about five miles away, too.”
The youths were returning to their homes in Washington, D. C., after having spent a delightful week-end in Virginia. Their accident came upon them in a rather out-of-the-way spot, a great number of miles from the city of their destination.
“If it hadn’t been for that hill,” remarked Joe, as he and his friend walked back up the road, “we would have seen this place in time to stop the car.”