By dint of making inquiries at many farm houses Ned managed to cover about twenty miles of his homeward trip. Then, as it grew later, the friendly lights that shone from the lonely road-side residences went out, and Ned began to think his trip was going to be a rather unpleasant one at the close, although it was still fairly clear. He did not like to awaken people up to ask them about the road, and it was evident that nearly every one in the country had gone to rest.
It was very dark. His gas lamp gave a brilliant thread of light directly in front of him, but that was all. It was quiet, also, save for the chug-chug of his motor. Now and then an owl would hoot, and the sound, strange and weird, seemed to chill Ned’s blood, though he knew what it was.
Once again the old trouble of coming to two roads, and not knowing which to follow, confronted him. It was close to midnight, and the country was so deserted that for the last two miles he had not passed a house. Nor did he know how far in advance he might have to go before reaching one.
“Shall I go to the right or left?” Ned asked himself. “I’ll trust to luck, I’ll toss a stone up, and take the road it falls nearest to.”
He had dismounted from his wheel, and, standing at the fork of the roads, tossed a pebble into the air. It fell on the left path.
“The left it is!” He got on his machine, rode about a quarter of a mile, and then, with a loud noise his rear tire burst. It came with such suddenness and gave Ned such a shock that he nearly tumbled from the motor.
“Here’s luck!” he exclaimed. He quickly discovered that the break was a bad enough one to mend in daylight to say nothing of attempting it in the darkness.
“I guess I’m booked to stay here all night,” the boy said. “If I could find a farm house near by I’d ask to stay there.”
But he did not feel like pushing the heavy motor along the road in a search.