“Do tell me what you have done,” urged Mildred.
“Wait until we get along the river road a bit and I’ll show you the car.”
“You don’t mean it’s Maxey Solomons’?”
“It was his,” admitted Dan, cheerfully. “And if we can get it out of the tree where it lodged last Saturday, we’ll show some of the folks around here that it is a real flying machine, although we hope to keep it out of the air for the future.”
They were wheeling along the road at a fast clip, but easily. Just as Dan spoke there sounded ahead an echoing crash—the fall of some object which made quite a startling noise on this quiet evening.
“What can that be?” demanded Mildred.
“I declare I don’t know,” said Dan, and quite involuntarily increased his speed.
There followed the sudden noise of a rapidly driven automobile—a car that was just starting ahead of them. In half a minute Dan knew that the car was hurrying toward Riverdale. Before he and Mildred had traveled three hundred yards the motor car was almost out of their hearing.
“What do you suppose has happened?” cried the girl.
Dan did not reply. It was a moonless night, but the heavens were brilliant with stars and their light made pretty plain objects along the road.