Morton place Frank suddenly brought his motorcycle to a stop and peered down into a clump of bushes in the deep ditch.
"Somebody's had a spill," he remarked.
Down in the bushes lay an upturned automobile. The car was a total wreck, and lay bottom upward, a mass of tangled junk.
"Must have been hitting an awful clip to crumple up like that," Joe commented. "Perhaps there's some one underneath. Let's go and see."
The boys left their motorcycles by the road and went down to the wrecked car. But there was no sign of either driver or passengers.
"If any one was hurt they've been taken away by now. Probably this wreck is a day or so old," said Frank. "Let's go. We can't do any good here."
They left the wreckage and returned to the road again, resuming their journey.
"I thought at first it might be our red-headed speed fiend," said Frank. "If it was, he was sure lucky to get out of it alive."
The boys gave little further thought to the incident and before long they were in sight of the Mortons' house, a big, homelike, rambling old farmhouse with an apple orchard at the rear. When the boys drove down the lane they saw a figure awaiting them at the barnyard gate.
