"Must be pretty near there, now," the stranger remarked. "The road splits, and you can save five miles if you stick to the right. We'll see a detour sign, but it won't mean anything."
"How's that?" questioned Stuart.
"They're starting some repair work," explained Jefferson, "so they've closed the road.
Going to take down two bridges and put up new ones. But they aren't beginning until next Monday — even though they've had the signs up for a couple of days."
"You're positive about that?" Stuart parried.
"Sure thing," Jefferson continued. "Some of the road gang were talking about it, back in a lunch wagon where I stopped. Stick to the right fork, and you'll cut off five miles to Herkimer.
That's the way I was going to hoof it. Figured it would be a shorter walk, even though there wouldn't be a chance for a lift."
"All right," said Stuart.
The road was winding now, and Stuart reduced speed slightly. The lightning flashes were blinding; the roar of the thunder was continuous. They were in the thick of the storm. A dazzling glare revealed the road ahead, and Stuart saw the spreading of the fork. Jefferson observed it, too.
"The right," he said.
Both roads looked good. Stuart swerved the big car to the right. Whirling through the storm, they began to descend a constant decline.
"Getting down to a river," observed Jefferson. "That's where the bridges are. Two of them. One on each side of an island. I heard the gang telling about them.
"They haven't even been down there, yet. Just stuck up barriers at each end. Waiting to get the order to go. That's the way they work. Better watch out, because we may hit a block across the road." The man's suggestion was a timely one. They were passing a dirt road that led off to the right. The headlights shone upon something white. A flash of lightning came, an instant later, and Stuart applied the brakes to keep from running into a broad, whitewashed board that blocked his path. The car began to skid, but responded to the driver's touch, and came to a jolting, sidewise stop, only a few feet from the barricade.
"No light," muttered Stuart.
"Wouldn't do much good," said Jefferson. "That white board shows about as well as a red light. Wait. I'll lift it so you can go through."
The man clambered from the car and walked in front of the headlights. He swung the board to one side, and Stuart guided the car through. A few moments later, his companion rejoined him. The man's coat and hat were dripping.
"What a storm!" he exclaimed. "Wouldn't like to be out in it long." THE road lay straight ahead, past the barrier. Stuart speeded up. He remembered what Jefferson had said about the two bridges. There would be no other obstacle until they passed the second bridge. Stuart was in a hurry, not only because he wanted to reach his destination, but also because he wanted to be off this road, and clear of the storm.
There was a twist; then came a straight downward hill, and at the end of it, the first bridge. Jefferson saw it as soon as the driver, and added another bit of information.
"The bridges are O.K.," he said. "They're taking them down because they're only wide enough for one car."
The headlights were revealing the fact that the bridge was narrow. A flash of lightning showed the complete structure, and the straight road on the island beyond.
Thus assured, Stuart pressed the accelerator, and the roar of the motor vied with the surging sound of the swollen stream that swept beneath the bridge.
The big car reached the bridge, traveling forty miles an hour. Hardly had the crossing begun before a strange vibration seemed to seize the bridge. The firm, level roadway was swaying!
For a brief second, Stuart felt that he was at the helm of a ship at sea. The automobile was in the midst of a skidding course. The bridge was giving way beneath its weight!
Instinctively, Stuart pressed the accelerator to the floor, knowing that his only salvation was to get clear of the collapsing bridge. The response of the car was instantaneous. It shot forward as Stuart passed the center of the bridge. The front wheels struck some obstacle, but kept on. As the rear wheels hit the same spot, there was a terrific crash.
The front of the car was almost to the end of the bridge, as a mighty sound — louder than a thunder roll told that the bridge had gone down beneath the rear of the car!
Only the momentum of the automobile prevented the car from falling into the engulfing stream. The bridge, collapsing at an angle, threw the rear of the coupe to one side. The hurtling machine shot on to the solid ground ahead. No longer under control, it swerved to the left of the road. The right side of the car rose like a mountain as Stuart applied the brakes. They were headed for a clump of saplings, and they crashed through the obstacle like an avenging Juggernaut. All was wild confusion before Stuart's eyes as he felt the car lunge forward and downward. It seemed to spin spirally to the left; then came a crash as the car smashed into a tree.
The motion ceased. Stuart recovered from a momentary daze to realize that the car was lying at a precipitous angle to the left. The whole front of the car was a mass of wreckage.
Something weighed heavily upon Stuart's body. He discovered that it was the form of Jefferson. His companion was lying almost over the steering wheel.
"Are you all right?" questioned Stuart.
A groan was the response, but it was satisfying. The man was hurt, but still alive. A flash of lightning showed his face, the right side gashed and bruised.
Amidst the rumble of thunder and the roaring of the stream beside the car, Stuart realized that he must extricate himself; then look to the other's welfare. Cautiously, he opened the door of the car and started to slide free.
There was a depression in the ground below; but the car could not topple farther, for it was wedged against a good-sized tree.
As Stuart slipped downward, he realized that Jefferson's inert form was following him.
He managed to stop the helpless man's progress by pushing him forward so that he rested against the steering wheel. Once out and looking up into the car above, Stuart saw that Jefferson's body was slowly gliding downward. The car would be a better place than the ground, Stuart decided, pushing the door shut. Jefferson's sagging form stopped as it settled into the driver's seat.
Stuart had lost all sense of direction. The winding course of the stream confused him. He stumbled through dampened underbrush and drew himself upward out of boggy ground. Then, as his senses straightened, he began to take his bearings.
The very elements which had contrived against him now worked in his behalf. The chilling rain aroused his benumbed faculties. The roaring stream told him that the road must be in the opposite direction. The lightning glare revealed the scene and showed the edge of the road, upward and ahead. Climbing an embankment, Stuart clung to a tree and rested, conscious of a sudden weakness in his left leg.
Before he went farther, it would be wise to note the situation about him. He looked back toward the car. It was invisible. Stuart had turned off the lights after the smash.
Then came a lightning flash — distant, now, for the center of the storm had passed. In the midst of that prolonged glare, Stuart saw a sight that froze his heart with terror.
The car was some sixty feet away, its right side looming upward. The door was opened, and Stuart saw why.
Poised over the opening was the stocky form of a man clad in cap and sweater. The face of this man was turned upward, and it wore an expression of evil exultation. In a huge, thick fist, this creature of the storm held a thick rod.