“Oh!  What’s that!” exclaimed Harriet.

The others did not know to what she referred, but they felt a sudden jolt as the vehicle lurched to the side of the road, then back again.

“What is it?” demanded Hazel.

“The horses have taken fright,” answered the guardian calmly.  “Be careful that you do not excite them further.”

“Are—­are the hortheth running away?” stammered Tommy.

“Not yet,” reassured Harriet.

“Don’t be frightened,” called back the guide encouragingly.  “Jim can hold any hosses that ever chewed a bit.  We’ll be on the bridge in a minute; then they can thrash all they want to.  Look out!”

There followed a crash, a breaking, splintering sound as the right rear wheel of the carry-all swerved into the side of the covered bridge a few inches from the outer end.  The wheel put a hole through the siding of the bridge.  It was fortunate for the carry-all that the wheel had not swerved a second earlier.  Had it done so, the carry-all must have been wrecked on the stout post at the outer end of the long bridge.

What had so startled the horses none of the occupants of the carry-all knew.  The driver knew that they had had a narrow escape from being hurled down an embankment.  It was a bad place for horses to take fright.  He had managed, however, to pick the team up by the reins and set them down in the middle of the road, where they remained but a few seconds before they were swerving to one side again, then they began leaping and galloping through the long, covered bridge.

Once more a rear wheel raked the boards.  The girls cried out, fearing that they would be hurled through the siding and down into the river.  They were clinging to the sides of the vehicle, gripping them firmly with their hands.

“Don’t lose your presence of mind, girls,” cried Miss Elting.  “I think the driver has the animals under control now.”  She was obliged to shout in order to make herself heard.

The roar of the carry-all on the floor of the bridge was terrifying.  As the vehicle rolled over the loose planks of the bridge floor the sound was almost as if a Gatling gun were being fired, accompanied by a crash, now and then, as the wagon was hurled against the side of the bridge.

“Oh, what a mess!” shouted Jane McCarthy.  “Are we near the other end, or has the miserable old bridge turned around since we started?  The horses are now going faster than ever, and we’ll be going at the same rapid gait a few moments from now, or maybe seconds——­”

Crash!

The carry-all once more struck the side.  Then something else occurred.  There was a sudden stoppage of the horses, accompanied by the sound of breaking woodwork.  It was as if the bridge were collapsing.  The Meadow-Brook Girls were piled in a heap at the forward end of the vehicle, then hurled straight over the dashboard and on over the horses, amid shouts and screams.  There seemed to be no end to the crashing and screaming for some moments; then a sudden silence settled over the darkened structure, broken only by the frightened neigh of a horse.