Thus they went along, for some five minutes, when Dick, who was in the lead, reached a small covered bridge over a noisy, rushing creek. Just as Dick gained the entrance to the bridge his gaze fell upon a large white sheet of paper tacked there. The word "Notice," written in printing characters, stared him in the face. Dick read, then called back quietly: "Halt! Here's something we've got to look into at once." The cart handlers willingly enough dropped their burden. All hands crowded forward to read what was written underneath on the sheet of paper. It ran thus: "All passers-by are cautioned that a mad dog, frothing at the mouth, has passed this way, going west. Officers have gone in pursuit of the animal, but passers-by may encounter the dog before the officers do. The dog is a huge English mastiff, without collar. Turn back unless armed!" "Fine and cheery!" exclaimed Tom Reade, looking rather startled despite his light comment. "And, just as it happens, this is the only road in the country that we want to use just at present," commented Dick Prescott. "Shall we go ahead, keeping a sharp lookout?" asked Dave. "I don't know," Dick muttered. "We'll have to think that over a bit." "There are six of us, and we can cut good, stout clubs before we proceed farther," suggested Greg Holmes. "Yes, and probably, if attacked, we could finish the dog," Dick went on. "Yet, most likely, before we did kill the brute, he'd have bitten at least one of us." "I'll go on, if the rest of you fellows want to," observed Danny Grin. "At the same time, it looks like taking a big chance, doesn't it?" "It's taking a chance, of course," Dick admitted. "The dog may be running yet, and we might never get within ten, or even twenty, miles of him. Or, the officers may have caught and killed the brute by this time. Or, the mastiff might bound at us from the woods at any moment now." "Whether we go back or keep on, we're fairly likely to meet the mad dog," suggested Tom. "Mr. Chairman, I rise to move, sir, that we cut clubs at once, and do the rest of our talking afterwards!" "The motion is seconded and carried," called Dick, darting into the woods. "Come on and find the clubs." Less than forty seconds afterwards each of the six boys was cutting a stout sapling, which he forthwith trimmed. "I believe I could kill anything but an ox with this," observed Reade, eyeing his bludgeon. "Look out!" called Danny Grin, as if in alarm. In a twinkling Tom dropped his club, dashed at a young oak tree and began to climb, thinking that the dog had suddenly appeared. "Stop that nonsense, Dan---and everyone of you!" called Dick sharply. "Let no one knowingly give any false alarms, or we might disregard a real warning when it comes." Tom sheepishly dropped to the ground, picked up his cudgel, then gazed at Dalzell with a look that had "daggers" in it. "I'll owe you one for that, Danny Grin," Reade remarked, "and I'm always careful about paying my debts."