he end of it yet, Ben," answered Dunston Porter.
"There may be worse roads than this ahead. I don't believe they are very
good around Carpen Falls."

With the rain pelting down unceasingly, the two cars proceeded on the
journey. The thunder and lightning had let up a little, but now, as the
top of the next hill was gained, it seemed to become more violent than
before.

"Oh, this is dreadful!" cried Jessie, as a particularly bright flash lit
up the interior of the automobile. "What if we should be struck!"

"Let us hope that nothing like that happens!" answered Laura. Her face,
too, showed her alarm.

"I think I saw some sort of a village ahead," cried Dave, who had been
peering intently through the windshield. "I think I saw the white
steeple of a church."

"Maybe it's Simpson's Corners," suggested Belle.

"I hope there is a hotel there and a garage," said Dunston Porter.
"We'll want to have a chance to dry ourselves and get supper."

"Then you don't think we'll reach Carpen Falls to-night?" questioned
Phil.

"I don't know what to think, Phil. Perhaps we may----"

Mr. Porter did not finish what he was saying. Just at that instant came
a vivid flash of lightning that nearly blinded them. It was followed by
an ear-splitting crash of thunder. Then came another crash closer by,
and an instant later Dave and his uncle saw a large tree fall directly
toward the roadway in front of them!

CHAPTER XII

A STROKE OF LIGHTNING

"Look out!"

"We are going into that tree!"

"Jam on both brakes, Dave, just as hard as you can!" cried Dunston
Porter.

Even before his uncle had spoken Dave had pressed down both feet hard,
thus putting on the foot-brake and releasing the gear-clutch. Now his
hand shot over to the emergency brake, and this came up with all the
power at his command. But the grade was downward, and the road slippery
from the rain, and instead of stopping, the touring-car went on, sliding
through the mud and over the rocks until it was practically on top of
the tree. Then came a jar that threw everybody forward. The
steering-wheel saved Dave, but his uncle's elbow struck the windshield,
cracking it in several places.

"Look, we've run into a tree!"

"Did the lightning hit the machine?"

"Say, Roger, take yourself off my feet; will you?"

This last cry came from Phil, who was huddled up in a corner of the
tonneau.

"It isn't me, it's the handbag, Phil," gasped out Roger, who hung partly
ove