"The road hog!" gasped Joe, as soon as he had recovered from his surprise. "He must be crazy!" Frank exclaimed angrily. "Why, he might have pushed us both right over the embankment!" "At the rate he was going I don't think he cared whether he ran any one down or not." Both boys were justifiably angry. On such a narrow, treacherous road there was danger enough when an automobile passed them traveling at even a reasonable speed, but the reckless and insane driving of the red-headed motorist was nothing short of criminal. "If we ever catch up to him I'm going to give him a piece of my mind!" declared Frank. "Not content with almost running us down he had to shake his fist at us." "Road hog!" muttered Joe again. "Jail is too good for the likes of him. If it was only his own life he endangered it wouldn't be so bad. Good thing we only had motorcycles. If we had been in another car there would have been a smash-up, sure." The boys resumed their journey and by the time they had reached the curve ahead that enabled them to see the village of Willowville lying in a little valley along the bay beneath them, there was no trace of the reckless motorist. Frank delivered the legal papers his father had given to him, and then the boys had the rest of the day to themselves. "It's too early to go back to Bayport just now," he said to Joe. "What say we go out and visit Chet Morton?" "Good idea," agreed Joe. "He has often asked us to come out and see him." Chet Morton was a school chum of the Hardy boys. His father was a real estate dealer with an office in Bayport, but the family lived in the country, about a mile from the city. Although Willowville was some distance away, the boys knew of a road that would take them across country to the Morton home, and from there they could return to Bayport. It would make their journey longer, but they would have the pleasure of visiting their chum. Chet was a great favorite with all the boys, not the least of the reasons for his popularity being the fact that he had a roadster of his own, in which he drove to school every day and with which he was very generous in giving rides to his friends after school hours. The Hardy boys drove along the country roads in the spring sunlight, enjoying the freedom of their holiday as only boys can. When they had reached a culvert not far from the Morton place Frank suddenly brought his motorcycle to a stop and peered down into a clump of bushes in the deep ditch. "Somebody's had a spill," he remarked. Down in the bushes lay an upturned automobile. The car was a total wreck, and lay bottom upward, a mass of tangled junk. "Must have been hitting an awful clip to crumple up like that," Joe commented. "Perhaps there's some one underneath. Let's go and see." The boys left their motorcycles by the road and went down to the wrecked car. But there was no sign of either driver or passengers.