Bump, bump! that was the bicycle being zigzagged1 through the hall.
Bang! that was the front door slamming behind both boys and bicycle, leaving the house quiet for a time, though the sound of voices outside suggested that a lively discussion was going on.
The bicycle fever had reached Perryville, and raged all summer. Now the town was very like a once tranquil2 pool infested3 with the long-legged water bugs4 that go skating over its surface in all directions; for wheels of every kind darted5 to and fro, startling horses, running over small children, and pitching their riders headlong in the liveliest manner. Men left their business to see the lads try new wheels, women grew skilful6 in the binding7 of wounds and the mending of sorely rent garments, gay girls begged for rides, standing8 on the little step behind, and boys clamored for bicycles that they might join the army of martyrs9 to the last craze.
Sidney West was the proud possessor of the best[256] wheel in town, and displayed his treasure with immense satisfaction before the admiring eyes of his mates. He had learned to ride in a city rink, and flattered himself that he knew all there was to learn, except those feats10 which only professional gymnasts acquire. He mounted with skilful agility11, rode with as much grace as the tread-mill movements of the legs permit, and managed to guide his tall steed without much danger to himself or others. The occasional headers he took, and the bruises13 which kept his manly14 limbs in a chronic15 state of mourning he did not mention; but concealed16 his stiffness heroically, and bound his younger brother to eternal silence by the bribe17 of occasional rides on the old wheel.
Hugh was a loyal lad, and regarded his big brother as the most remarkable18 fellow in the world; so he forgave Sid's domineering ways, was a willing slave, a devoted19 admirer, and a faithful imitator of all the masculine virtues20, airs, and graces of this elder brother. On one point only did they disagree, and that was Sid's refusal to give Hugh the old wheel when the new one came. Hugh had fondly hoped it would be his, hints to that effect having been dropped when Sid wanted an errand done, and for weeks the younger boy had waited and labored21 patiently, sure that his reward would be the small bicycle on which he could proudly take his place as a member of the newly formed club; with them to set forth22, in the blue uniform, with horns blowing, badges glittering, and legs flying, for a long spin,—to return after dark, a mysterious line of[257] tall shadows, "with lanterns dimly burning," and warning whistles sounding as they went.
Great, therefore, was his disappointment and wrath23 when he discovered that Sid had agreed to sell the wheel to another fellow, if it suited him, leaving poor Hugh the only boy of his set without a machine. Much as he loved Sid, he could not forgive this underhand and mercenary transaction. It seemed so unbrotherly to requite24 such long and willing service, to dash such ardent25 hopes, to betray such blind confidence, for filthy26 lucre27; and when the deed was done, to laugh, and ride gayly away on the splendid British Challenge, the desire of all hearts and eyes.
This morning Hugh had freely vented29 his outraged30 feelings, and Sid had tried to make light of the affair, though quite conscious that he had been both unkind and unfair. A bicycle tournament was to take place in the city, twenty miles away, and the members of the club were going. Sid, wishing to distinguish himself, intended to ride thither31, and was preparing for the long trip with great care. Hugh was wild to go, but having spent his pocket-money and been forbidden to borrow, he could not take the cars as the others had done; no horse was to be had, and their own stud consisted of an old donkey, who would have been hopeless even with the inducement offered in the immortal32 ditty,—
"If I had a donkey what wouldn't go,
Do you think I'd whip him? Oh, no, no!
I'd take him to Jarley's Wax-work Show."
Therefore poor Hugh was in a desperate state of[258] mind as he sat on the gate-post watching Sid make his pet's toilet, till every plated handle, rod, screw, and axle shone like silver.
"I know I could have ridden the Star if you hadn't let Joe have it. I do think it was right down mean of you; so does Aunt Ruth, and father too,—only he wont33 say so, because men always stand by one another, and snub boys."
This was strong language for gentle Hugh, but he felt that he must vent28 his anguish34 in some way or cry like a girl; and that disgrace must be avoided, even if he failed in respect to his elders.
Sid was whistling softly as he oiled and rubbed, but he was not feeling as easy as he looked, and heartily35 wished that he had not committed himself to Joe, for it would have been pleasant to take "the little chap," as he called the fourteen-year-older, along with him, and do the honors of the rink on this great occasion. Now it was too late; so he affected36 a careless air, and added insult to injury by answering his brother's reproaches in the joking spirit which is peculiarly exasperating37 at such moments.
"Children shouldn't play with matches, nor small boys with bicycles. I don't want to commit murder, and I certainly should if I let you try to ride twenty miles when you can't go one without nearly breaking your neck, or your knees," and Sid glanced with a smile at the neat darns which ornamented38 his brother's trousers over those portions of his long legs.
"How's a fellow going to learn if he isn't allowed to[259] try? Might as well tell me to keep away from the water till I can swim. You give me a chance and see if I can't ride as well as some older fellows who have been pitched round pretty lively before they dared to try a twenty-mile spin," answered Hugh, clapping both hands on his knees to hide the tell-tale darns.
"If Joe doesn't want it, you can use the old wheel till I decide what to do with it. I suppose a man has a right to sell his own property if he likes," said Sid, rather nettled39 at the allusion40 to his own tribulations41 in times past.
"Of course he has; but if he's promised to give a thing he ought to do it, and not sneak42 out of the bargain after he's got lots of work done to pay for it. That's what makes me mad; for I believed you and depended on it, and it hurts me more to have you deceive me than it would to lose ten bicycles;" and Hugh choked a little at the thought, in spite of his attempt to look sternly indignant.
"You are welcome to your opinion, but I wouldn't cry about it. Play with chaps of your own size and don't hanker after men's property. Take the cars, if you want to go so much, and stop bothering me," retorted Sid, getting cross because he was in the wrong and wouldn't own it.
"You know I can't! No money, and mustn't borrow. What's the use of twitting a fellow like that?" and Hugh with great difficulty refrained from knocking off the new helmet-hat which was close to[260] his foot as Sid bent43 to inspect the shining hub of the cherished wheel.
"Take Sancho, then; you might arrive before the fun was all over, if you carried whips and pins and crackers44 enough to keep the old boy going; you'd be a nice span."
This allusion to the useless donkey was cruel, but Hugh held on to the last remnant of his temper, and made a wild proposal in the despair of the moment.
"Don't be a donkey yourself. See here, why can't we ride and tie? I've tried this wheel, and got on tip-top. You'd be along to see to me, and we'd take turns. Do, Sid! I want to go awfully45, and if you only will I won't say another word about Joe."
But Sid only burst out laughing at the plan, in the most heartless manner.
"No, thank you. I don't mean to walk a step when I can ride; or lend my new wheel to a chap who can hardly keep right side up on the old one. It looks like a jolly plan to you, I dare say, but I don't see it, young man."
"I hope I sha'n't be a selfish brute46 when I'm seventeen. I'll have a bicycle yet,—A, No. 1,—and then you'll see how I'll lend it, like a gentleman, and not insult other fellows because they happen to be two or three years younger."
"Keep cool, my son, and don't call names. If you are such a smart lad, why don't you walk, since wheels and horses and donkey fail. It's only twenty miles,—nothing to speak of, you know."
"Well, I could do it if I liked. I've walked[261] eighteen, and wasn't half so tired as you were. Any one can get over the ground on a bicycle, but it takes strength and courage to keep it up on foot."
"Better try it."
"I will, some day."
"Don't crow too loud, my little rooster; you are not cock of the walk yet."
"If I was, I wouldn't hit a fellow when he's down;" and fearing he should kick over the tall bicycle that stood so temptingly near him, Hugh walked away, trying to whistle, though his lips were more inclined to tremble than to pucker47.
"Just bring my lunch, will you? Auntie is putting it up; I must be off," called Sid, so used to giving orders that he did so even at this unpropitious moment.
"Get it yourself. I'm not going to slave for you any longer, old tyrant," growled48 Hugh; for the trodden worm turned at last, as worms will.
This was open revolt, and Sid felt that things were in a bad way, but would not stop to mend them then.
"Whew! here's a tempest in a teapot. Well, it is too bad; but I can't help it now. I'll make it all right to-morrow, and bring him round with a nice account of the fun. Hullo, Bemis! going to town?" he called, as a neighbor came spinning noiselessly by.
"Part way, and take the cars at Lawton. It's hard riding over the hills, and a bother to steer49 a wheel through the streets. Come on, if you're ready."
"All right;" and springing up, Sid was off, forgetting[262] all about the lunch.
Hugh, dodging50 behind the lilac-bushes, heard what passed, and the moment they were gone ran to the gate to watch them out of sight with longing51 eyes, then turned away, listlessly wondering how he should spend the holiday his brother was going to enjoy so much.
At that moment Aunt Ruth hurried to the door, waving the leathern pouch52 well stored with cake and sandwiches, cold coffee and pie.
"Sid's forgotten his bag. Run, call, stop him!" she cried, trotting53 down the walk with her cap-strings waving wildly in the fresh October wind.
For an instant Hugh hesitated, thinking sullenly54, "Serves him right. I won't run after him;" then his kind heart got the better of his bad humor, and catching55 up the bag he raced down the road at his best pace, eager to heap coals of fire on Sid's proud head,—to say nothing of his own desire to see more of the riders.
"They will have to go slowly up the long hill, and I'll catch them then," he thought as he tore over the ground, for he was a good runner and prided himself on his strong legs.
Unfortunately for his amiable56 intentions, the boys had taken a short cut to avoid the hill, and were out of sight down a lane where Hugh never dreamed they would dare to go, so mounted.
"Well, they have done well to get over the hill at this rate. Guess they won't keep it up long," panted[263] Hugh, stopping short when he saw no signs of the riders.
The road stretched invitingly57 before him, the race had restored his spirits, and curiosity to see what had become of his friends lured59 him to the hill-top, where temptation sat waiting for him. Up he trudged60, finding the fresh air, the sunny sky, the path strewn with red and yellow leaves, and the sense of freedom so pleasant that when he reached the highest point and saw the world all before him, as it were, a daring project seemed to flash upon him, nearly taking his breath away with its manifold delights.
"Sid said, 'Walk,' and why not?—at least to Lawton, and take the cars from there, as Bemis means to do. Wouldn't the old fellows be surprised to see me turn up at the rink? It's quarter past eight now, and the fun begins at three; I could get there easy enough, and by Jupiter, I will! Got lunch all here, and money enough to pay this car-fare, I guess. If I haven't, I'll go a little further and take a horse-car. What a lark61! here goes,"—and with a whoop62 of boyish delight at breaking bounds, away went Hugh down the long hill, like a colt escaped from its pasture.
The others were just ahead, but the windings63 of the road hid them from him; so all went on, unconscious of each other's proximity64. Hugh's run gave him a good start, and he got over the ground famously for five or six miles; then he went more slowly, thinking he had plenty of time to catch a certain train. But he had no watch, and when he reached Lawton he had[264] the pleasure of seeing the cars go out at one end of the station as he hurried in at the other.
"I won't give it up, but just go on and do it afoot. That will be something to brag65 of when the other chaps tell big stories. I'll see how fast I can go, for I'm not tired, and can eat on the way. Much obliged to Sid for a nice lunch."
And chuckling66 over this piece of good luck, Hugh set out again, only pausing for a good drink at the town-pump. The thirteen miles did not seem very long when he thought of them, but as he walked them they appeared to grow longer and longer, till he felt as if he must have travelled about fifty. He was in good practice, and fortunately had on easy shoes; but he was in such a hurry to make good time that he allowed himself no rest, and jogged on, up hill and down, with the resolute67 air of one walking for a wager68. There we will leave him, and see what had befallen Sid; for his adventures were more exciting than Hugh's, though all seemed plain sailing when he started.
At Lawton he had parted from his friend and gone on alone, having laid in a store of gingerbread from a baker's cart, and paused to eat, drink, and rest by a wayside brook69. A few miles further he passed a party of girls playing lawn tennis, and as he slowly rolled along regarding them from his lofty perch70, one suddenly exclaimed:—
"Why, it's our neighbor, Sidney West! How did he come here?" and waving her racquet, Alice ran across the lawn to find out.
Very willing to stop and display his new uniform,[265] which was extremely becoming, Sid dismounted, doffed71 his helmet, and smiled upon the damsels, leaning over the hedge like a knight72 of old.
"Come in and play a game, and have some lunch. You will have plenty of time, and some of us are going to the rink by and by. Do, we want a boy to help us, for Maurice is too lazy, and Jack73 has hurt his hand with that stupid base ball," said Alice, beckoning74 persuasively75, while the other girls nodded and smiled hopefully.
Thus allured76, the youthful Ulysses hearkened to the voice of the little Circe in a round hat, and entered the enchanted77 grove78, to forget the passage of time as he disported79 himself among the nymphs. He was not changed to a beast, as in the immortal story, though the three young gentlemen did lie about the lawn in somewhat grovelling80 attitudes; and Alice waved her racquet as if it were a wand, while her friends handed glasses of lemonade to the recumbent heroes during pauses in the game.
While thus blissfully engaged, time slipped away, and Hugh passed him in the race, quite unconscious that his brother was reposing
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