The hill was not only remarkably steep, but consisted of a series of turns and twists. Down the grade the car plunged in spite of the brakes that Ned jammed on, with all his force, to prevent a runaway. He was a little pale, but calm, and with his steady hands on the wheel, clinging firmly to it in spite of the way it jerked about, as if trying to get free, he guided the Fire Bird down, the big machine swerving from right to left, but ever following where the lad directed it.
As they swung around a turn in the descending road a clump of trees obstructed the view for a moment. Then the car glided beyond them, gathering speed every moment, in spite of the brakes.
“The creek!” yelled Tavia in sudden terror, pointing to where a small, but deep stream flowed under the road. “There’s the creek and the bridge is broken!”
The water was spanned by a frail structure, generally out of order and in a state of uncertain repair. It needed but a glance to show that it was now in course of being mended, for there was a pile of material near it. Work, however, had been temporarily suspended.
Then, there flashed into view a warning signboard announcing that the old planking of the bridge had been taken up to allow the putting down of new, and that the bridge was impassable. The four horror-stricken occupants of the car saw this at a glance.
“Stop the car!” cried Tavia.
“Can’t!” answered Ned hoarsely. “I’ve got the emergency brake on, but it doesn’t seem to hold.”
“It’s all right,” called Nat. “I saw a wagon go over the bridge when we were on our way to the school this afternoon.”
“But it crossed on some loose, narrow planks!” Tavia gasped. “I saw them put the boards there yesterday when we were out for our walk! I forgot all about them! Oh! Stop the car! We can’t cross on the planks! We’ll all be killed!”
Ned leaned forward, pulling with all his strength on the brake handle, as if to force it a few more notches back and make the steel band grip tighter the whirring wheels that were screeching out a shrill protest at the friction.