There was a stir among the Indians, and they looked at each other.
Without stopping the bicycle, Frank swung back over the handlebars to the saddle. Having reached this position, he stopped suddenly, turning the forward wheel at an angle, sitting there and gracefully balancing on the stationary machine.
“Heap much good!” declared Black Feather, growing enthusiastic.
“Oh, those little things are dead easy,” assured Frank, with a laugh. “Do you really desire to see me do something that is worth doing?”
“What more white boy can do?”
“Several things, but I’ll have to make a larger circle.”
It was growing dark swiftly now, the sun being down and the shadows of the mountains lying dark and gloomy in the valleys.
“Go ’head,” directed Black Feather.
Frank started the bicycle in motion, and then, with it going at good speed, he swung down on one side and slowly but neatly crept through the frame, coming up on the other side and regaining the saddle without stopping.
“Paleface boy great medicine!” said Black Feather.