“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 smashup, 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.”