The Steel Horse. Charles Austin Fosdick
get hungry between times."
"I wish we had just one more year on our shoulders," said Arthur, "for then we could apply for admittance to the League of American Wheelmen. No doubt we would find friends in it who could give us pointers."
"The year will pass soon enough, and when it has gone you may wish it back again," replied Joe. "It makes no difference if we are not in the League. Wheelmen are always good to one another, and I shall make it my business to bounce every strange bicyclist who comes to town, if I can catch him. If he has been on the road I will get some ideas out of him before I let up."
Roy and Arthur said that was a suggestion worth acting upon, and the three made such good use of the opportunities that were constantly presented that by the time the school term was ended and the long vacation came, they considered themselves fully posted on all important matters relating to their proposed run across the State and back. The strange wheelmen who now and then ran into Mount Airy for a day or two proved to be a jolly, companionable lot of fellows, and full of stories of the road which they were as ready to tell as the boys were to listen to them.
"Let me give you one word of warning," said a bronzed bicyclist, who had come all the way from Omaha on his wheel: "Do not neglect your training for a single day. "I've no doubt that you can run all round this little burg without feeling any the worse for it, but you will find that three or four days in the saddle will test your endurance. I remember of hearing of a couple of wheelmen who started to run from Cleveland to Buffalo. They made no special preparation for the journey, believing, no doubt, that their short daily runs had sufficiently hardened their muscles; but when they reached their destination they were in a somewhat demoralized condition. They hung around the Genesee House for a day or two, and took the cars when they wanted to go home."
"We'll never do that," said Arthur. "If our wheels take us away from home they must bring us back."
"Well," said the Veteran, "you will find that it will take a good many motions with the pedals to carry you over a journey of seven hundred miles; but get yourselves in good trim before you start, inquire your way at every place you stop, steer clear of tramps, look out for skittish horses, keep off the tow-path, don't get mad if you meet some old curmudgeon who will not give you your share of the road, and you will come out all right and have a splendid time besides. You'll sleep as you never slept before, eat every crumb placed within your reach on the table, and handle things as though there was no break to them."
"Why should we give the tow-path a wide berth?" inquired Roy. "Our guide-book says that the road from New London to Bloomingdale is knee-deep in sand, and advises all wheelmen going that way to take to the tow-path."
"You'll find the unspeakable mule there," replied their new friend, "and he'll get you into trouble with the canalers. Now, a mule doesn't care any more for a bike than he does for the boat he is towing; but he pretends that he is very much afraid of it. I have seen them turn like a flash and run as if they were scared half to death: but it was all put on, for they were always careful to stop before they took up all the slack in the tow-line, and got themselves jerked off off the path into the canal. Of course that makes the steersman mad, and he tells you what he thinks of you and your wheel in the first words that come into his mind. Besides, a fellow on a bike offers so tempting a mark that no canal boy I ever saw can resist firing a stone at him. If he don' t throw at you, it will be because he can't find anything before you get out of range."
"If a fellow should try that on me I'd run him down and give him such a thrashing that he'd not trouble the next wheelman who came along," said Tom Bigden, who happened to come up while the conversation was in progress.
"I wouldn't advise you to try it," said the stranger, with a light laugh. "In the first place you couldn't catch him, for as soon as he saw that you were overhauling him, he would leave the tow-path and take to the rocks; and while you were following him, if you were foolish enough to do it, some of his companions would run up and tumble your machine into the canal. The easiest way is the best."
"I suppose we shall find the country people all right?" said Joe.
"W-e-l-l—yes; the majority of them are all right, but now and then you will find a mean one even among the farmers, who will tell you that your machines are a nuisance because they scare the horses; and if you meet such a man as that on the road, he'll take particular pains to crowd you off into the ditch. Take it by and large, the road is an admirable school for young fellows like you. You've got to take the bad with the good in this world, and make up your mind's that what can't be cured must be endured."
"So it seems that even 'cycling has its shadowy side," said Roy, as he and his friends walked homeward after thanking the Omaha wheelman for the advice and information he had given them. "Tramps and canalers must be avoided, and we mustn't get angry when some crusty old fellow pushes us off the road."
"And there are the dogs," said Arthur. "But he didn't say anything about them, did he?"
"No; but other wheelmen have, and I should think that in some places (in the South, for instance, where every granger keeps half a dozen or more worthless curs around him) they would be a big source of annoyance," said Joe. "But others have gone through all right, and we are going, too."
"I wonder if Tom Bigden and his cousin are going anywhere," said Arthur. "If they are I hope they will take some route that will lead them out of our line of travel."
The others hoped so, too. While they tried to live in peace with Tom, they did not care to have him for a traveling companion.
Joe and his chums thought it best to heed the Omaha man's friendly word of caution, and if they had ridden hard before, they rode harder now. A ten-mile spin in the cool of the evening was an every-day occurrence. Of course they did not ride on Sunday, and, furthermore, they did not think much of a fellow who did.
The morning set for the start dawned clear and bright, and after an early breakfast Joe Wayring waved his adieu to the family who had assembled on the porch to see him off, and wheeled gaily out of his father's grounds just in time to meet Arthur Hastings. Picking up Roy Sheldon a few minutes later, the three set off at a lively pace over a good road, their long journey being fairly begun. The trunks which contained most of their luggage had been forwarded to the wheelmen's headquarters at New London, with the request that they might be held until called for; but several handy little articles, which they might need at any time, were made up into neat bundles and tied to their safely-bars. Of course their lamps and cyclometers were in their places, and so were their Buffalo tool-bags; and each boy carried slung over his shoulder a bicycle gun-case containing a fourteen-inch pocket rifle. They were innocent-looking little pop-guns, but "spiteful things to shoot," and one of them came very near bringing the boys into serious trouble.
"I wouldn't take a dollar for my chance of enjoying myself this trip," said Roy, as he wheeled into line behind his companions. "During our two last outings Matt Coyle and his interesting family made things quite too lively to suit me, but they'll not bother us any more. Now isn't this glorious? I remember of reading somewhere that if one has a hankering for wings, and feels as if he would like to glide out into space and leave the world with its cares and troubles behind, all he has to do is to buy a bicycle, and learn to ride it."
Roy's companions must have felt a good deal as he did, for both of them had something to say about the "joys that no one but a wheelman knows," but their exuberance of spirit did not lead them to commit the blunder of riding hard at the start. When they drew up in front of wheelman's headquarters in New London that night, their cyclometers registered thirty-six miles; not a very speedy run, to be sure, but then they had not set out with any intention of trying to break the record. In accordance with their request the hotel clerk assigned them to rooms "as close together as he could get them," and after seeing their wheels safely stored, the boys disappeared for a while to remove all travel-stains from their hands, faces and clothing. Then they ate a hearty supper, and adjourned to the reading-room to decide where they would spend the evening. A long time had elapsed since they last visited New London, and they had planned to remain in the city until they had taken a look at all the new things there were to be seen. That would take three or four days, they thought; but, as it happened, some strange events occurred which prolonged