the senator's son. "There is no use of keeping so close together, anyway."
The road wound in and out among the trees, and in some spots was so narrow that the boys had to run with great care, for fear of bumping into the stump of a tree or on the rocks, or switching into some low-hanging branch. Dave had his foot on the brake, ready to stop quickly, should it become necessary to do so.
"Hi, there! Stop! Don't you dare to come any further!"
The call was an unexpected one, coming just as the leading automobile hove in sight of the Falls. Dave saw Nat Poole hurrying towards him, followed by Merwell and Jasniff. Pete Barnaby was nowhere in sight, and the marks on the narrow road told that his racing car had gone on ahead.
"What do you want, Nat?" asked Dave, as coolly as he could, having brought his machine to a standstill.
"Can't you read, Dave Porter?" fumed the son of the Crumville money-lender.
"Certainly I can read."
"Well, then, what are you doing on this road? You know it is closed. You haven't any right on it at all—you or anybody else. You turn around and go back, just as quick as you can."
"This is a public road, Nat Poole!" cried Ben. "You hadn't any right to put up that sign."
