y have torn up part of the road around the hill. We'll have to
take it pretty slowly."

The touring car crept up the hill, past several heaps of dirt, and
then started to come down on the other side. Here there was a sharp
curve, with heavy bushes on both sides. Mr. Porter blew the horn loud
and long, to warn anybody ahead that he was coming.

"Look out!" yelled Phil, suddenly. But the warning was not necessary,
for Dunston Porter saw the danger and so did the others. A horse and
buggy were just ahead on the torn-up highway, going in the same
direction as themselves. The horse was prancing and rearing and the
driver was sawing at the lines in an effort to quiet the steed. It
looked as if there might be a collision.

CHAPTER III

A TALK OF THE FUTURE

The girls screamed and the boys uttered various cries and words of
advice. Dave leaned forward, to jam on the hand-brake, but his uncle
was ahead of him in the action. The foot-brake was already down, and
from the rear wheels came a shrill squeaking, as the bands gripped the
hubs. But the hill was a steep one and the big touring car, well
laden, continued to move downward, although but slowly.

"Keep over! Keep over to the right!" yelled Dunston Porter, to the
driver of the buggy. But the man was fully as excited as his horse,
and he continued to saw on the reins, until the turnout occupied the
very center of the narrow and torn-up highway.

It was a time of peril, and a man less used to critical moments than
Dunston Porter might have lost his head completely. But this old
traveler and hunter, who had faced grizzly bears in the West and lions
in Africa, managed to keep cool. He saw a chance to pass on the right
of the turnout ahead, and like a flash he let go on the two brakes
and turned on a little power. Forward bounded the big car, the right
wheels on the very edge of a water-gully. The left mud-guards scraped
the buggy, and the man driving it uttered a yell of fright. Then the
touring car went on, to come to a halt at the bottom of the hill, a
short distance away.

"Hello!" exclaimed Dave, as he looked back at the turnout that had
caused the trouble. "It's Mr. Poole!"

"You mean Nat's father?" queried Phil.

"Yes."

"Hi, you! What do you mean by running into me?" stormed the
money-lender, savagely, as he presently managed to get his steed under
control and came down beside the touring car.

"What do you mean by blocking the road, Mr. Poole?" retu