The Adventures of a Woman Hobo

by Ethel Lynn

“Get into your saddle, quick,” I cried. “It’s our only chance.”

I steadied the bicycle with a firm hand. “Just get on. I’ll start it.”

Dan seated himself and grasped the handle bars, while with straining muscles I bent desperately to the task of getting the heavy load in motion. The tires seemed glued to the rough, uneven surface of the prairie, and when at last with sobbing breath I was able to leap into the front saddle, we were almost on the horns of a heavy animal that blocked the way. But to hesitate meant death, so with a blood curdling yell I headed full at his nose. He crowded aside, I swerved, and we passed between the rows of cattle with room so scant that we almost brushed the hairy flanks. I could hear the thunder of hoofs as the herd got into motion behind us. The protecting fence seemed very far away. Bushes slapped at us in passing. The difference between riding on even a poor road and pedalling over this unsurfaced plain, level as it was, became increasingly evident. And how to cross the fence to safety with a crippled man and a laden wheel, even though we survived that long, was a problem. The front wheel struck a sharp, projecting snag and air hissed from the flattening tire. An instant later the rear tire also gave way, but we pedalled desperately on, bumping along on the rims, which each moment threatened to let us down.

We were nearing the western boundary when I heard a shout and glancing to the right saw a man on horseback tearing down the road in our direction. He began swinging his hat and shooting in the air, and as the wheel struck the fence, almost throwing me to the ground, his horse reared to a stop directly before us. To help Dan through, slip under myself and drag the wheel to safety was the work of a moment and I was free to watch the herd as they swerved away to the south.

“Gosh all hemlock, that was a close shave,” gasped the cowboy. “How in Sam Hill did you all get into such a scrape?”

As I started to explain, he noticed that Dan was lame. He leaped from the saddle and in a trice had loaded Dan onto the horse. Then, giving me a hand with the wheel, started briskly in the direction of a thrifty-looking farm.

We halted at last beneath a tree at the edge of the road. Dan let himself down from his perch, and upon my firm assurance that we would be all right, our rescuer resumed his interrupted journey. I kindled a fire, brought water from a well, then sought the house, which stood well back from the road, to secure the loan of a deep bucket. A timid little woman accommodated me without demur; then followed curiously into camp. At once I treated Dan’s ankle with a prolonged hot bath, followed by a careful massage and the application of arnica-soaked bandages. The little woman followed every motion with the keenest interest, and discovering that I was a doctor, burst into a detailed account of an accident that had befallen her young son. He had fallen from a tree and sprained his wrist, which remained somewhat stiff. Would I be so kind as to examine it and see what was wrong? This I agreed to do before leaving, but for the present decided to make camp for the night, rest, and calm my quivering nerves.

Next morning Dan was able to get to work on the wheel, replacing the ruined tires with extras purchased in Kearney for some such emergency. Again we rested during the heat of the day, and resolved to resume the journey next morning.

The tandem was packed for the road when the farmer’s wife came hurrying out to remind me of my promise regarding her boy. We entered the farmyard, which swarmed with hogs of all sizes, and were led to an enclosed shed where I shut in the wheel for safe keeping while we entered the house.

But the lad was nowhere to be found. After an hour of searching, the mother, assisted by an older brother, dragged the patient, struggling and howling, from his hiding place in the attic; then held him while I discovered a slight displacement of one of the small bones of the wrist. This I reduced after considerable trouble, due to the boy’s unruly temper, and bandaged the arm as the clock struck eleven. The mother then insisted that we stay to dinner and as Dan was still rather in need of rest, we accepted gratefully.