“Where is the President?” asked Bert weakly in that pause that followed.
“Logan,” said Laurier, disregarding that feeble inquiry, “you must help us in this.”
It seemed only a matter of a few minutes before Bert and Laurier and the storekeeper were examining a number of bicycles that were stowed in the hinder room of the store. Bert didn't like any of them very much. They had wood rims and an experience of wood rims in the English climate had taught him to hate them. That, however, and one or two other objections to an immediate start were overruled by Laurier. “But where IS the President?” Bert repeated as they stood behind Logan while he pumped up a deflated tyre.
Laurier looked down on him. “He is reported in the neighbourhood of Albany—out towards the Berkshire Hills. He is moving from place to place and, as far as he can, organising the defence by telegraph and telephones The Asiatic air-fleet is trying to locate him. When they think they have located the seat of government, they throw bombs. This inconveniences him, but so far they have not come within ten miles of him. The Asiatic air-fleet is at present scattered all over the Eastern States, seeking out and destroying gas-works and whatever seems conducive to the building of airships or the transport of troops. Our retaliatory measures are slight in the extreme. But with these machines—Sir, this ride of ours will count among the historical rides of the world!”
He came near to striking an attitude. “We shan't get to him to-night?” asked Bert.
“No, sir!” said Laurier. “We shall have to ride some days, sure!”
“And suppose we can't get a lift on a train—or anything?”
“No, sir! There's been no transit by Tanooda for three days. It is no good waiting. We shall have to get on as well as we can.”
“Startin' now?”
“Starting now!”