"Does Tag know how to run a car?" Prescott inquired. "Don't know," replied the deputy. "If he does, and had happened to be about, he could have taken your car in good shape," smiled Dick. "True," nodded the officer, "but there were only two of us, and nabbing Tag Mosher is two men's work." "I ought to know that," laughed Dick. "He gave me a stiff enough beating." "Here is where you can even the score," laughed Dave grimly. "I don't want to even any score," replied Prescott gravely. "I'm sorry for the fellow, especially when he was so close to a chance to turn about and make something of himself." "Do you mean to say that you don't hold even a bit of a grudge for that severe beating you got?" demanded Darry wonderingly. "Of course I don't," Dick retorted. "When two fellows fight one of them must receive a beating---that's the sporting chance. All my feelings for Tag are of sympathy." "Not enough so you'd let him get away, if you met him?" put in the deputy quickly. "Of course, not, sir," Dick answered quickly flushing. "That would be as much as to say that I'm a bad citizen. If I find Tag I'll do my best to hold him until help comes. You may be sure of that." "Then get into the car," ordered the deputy briefly. "The back part of the car is for you youngsters. That reminds me. We don't know each other's names. Mine's Simmons." The other deputy's name proved to be Valden. The boys quickly introduced themselves. Away went the car, over the rough roads. To avoid sending warning too far ahead the lights were turned low. On account of the condition of this rough forest road the speed was slow. "If Tag hasn't been to your camp within three nights," said Mr. Simmons, leaning back while Mr. Valden ran the car, "then it's because he isn't in this neighborhood. So we'll travel on a few miles before we stop to do any real searching." "I don't understand how you can expect to find anyone out here in the night time," Dick observed. "I've some plans in my mind," was all the explanation Simmons offered. When the road became a little better, Valden put on a bit more speed. "Better slow down," advised Simmons presently. "There's a bridge ahead that isn't any, too strong." That bridge was closer than the deputy thought. Just then the automobile top brushed heavily against foliage in making a wooded turn in the road. "There's the bridge!" yelled Simmons almost excitedly. "Slow down---stop!" Valden tried to obey, but the bridge was altogether too close for stopping in time. Out over the planks ran the car. R-r-rip! Crash! Some of the boards were already missing from the rude bridge. Others gave way almost like paper. Down through the structure fell the car, then landed with a splash, overturning to the accompaniment of cries of fright and of pain from its occupants. CHAPTER XIII IN A FIX!