"Can you get it to work?"
"The machine works perfectly."
"I'd rather have my bicycle," sneered Jasniff. "That thing makes too much noise for me."
"So would I," added Gus Plum. "Too much noise and too much smell."
"I'd rather have the motor cycle, so there you are," answered the senator's son, and moved on again, while the others did the same. "I guess it's a case of sour grapes," he told himself.
Roger had just passed a bend of the road when something happened to the battery which supplied the electric spark to ignite the gasoline. He set the motor cycle against a rock, and it was a full quarter of an hour before he could make the battery work. During that time somebody came through the bushes near him and looked at the youth, but Roger took no notice.
The motor cycle ready for use once more, the senator's son hopped on the saddle and turned on the power. All seemed to go well and presently, to make up for lost time, he put on all speed.
"It won't do to be late for supper," he reasoned. "Haskers will catch me sure."
He passed another turn, between some high bushes. The way was now downhill, leading over a small stream flowing into the Leming River. The motor cycle took the down-grade at a rapid rate of speed, and fearing an accident, Roger attempted to turn off the power and put on the brake.
To his horror he could not move the power lever, which had become caught in some manner. The motor cycle was now bounding down the road at a terrific rate of speed. Just ahead was the little bridge. Roger gave a vain tug or two. Then the machine struck the rough boards of the bridge, made a turn against the stone wall, and heels over head the senator's son went sailing over the stone wall to the rocks and water below!