The Steel Horse: The Rambles of a Bicycle

by Harry Castlemon

THE STRANGE WHEELMAN.

Loren and Ralph often declared that if Tom Bigden's "cheek" had not been "monumental," he never could have lived through the winter as he did. He went everywhere, and although, to quote from the Canvas Canoe, he did not "shoot off his chin" quite as much as he formerly did, or take as deep an interest in things, he did not by any means keep in the background, as most boys would have done under like circumstances. As time wore on, he and his cousins began telling one another that Prime did not confine himself to the truth when he said that every one in the village knew how intimate Tom and Matt Coyle had been during the two last summers, for certainly he was as well treated and as cordially received wherever he went as he ever was. Joe Wayring and his friends always had a good word for him, and that went far toward satisfying Tom that they did not believe he had anything to do with the loss of the canvas canoe or with the No-Man's Pond affair. It was not long before their example and silent influence began to tell upon Tom, who more than once astonished his cousins by saying, in their hearing, that he believed it would be worth while for him to turn over a new leaf and try to lead a better life.

Meanwhile Joe and his chums thoroughly enjoyed themselves in a quiet way, as boys always do when they have abounding health, clear consciences, and plenty of things around them to make life pleasant. In company with some of their school-fellows, of whom Tom Bigden and his cousins generally made three, they paid several visits to Indian River to fish through the ice for pickerel, going Friday night and returning Saturday. They saw any amount of sport during these short outings, and always brought home a fine string of fish; but they never drew so valuable a prize from the river as Joe and his friends did when they went there during the winter vacation. Nothing ever happened to mar their pleasure during these encampments, not even when Roy took Tom Bigden to task somewhat sharply for shooting a grouse after the first of January. Tom pleaded ignorance of the law, promised never to do it again, and so the offense was overlooked.

But winter with its storms and drifts and sports passed away, and spring came with the usual alternations of driving rains and high winds which quickly cleared the lake of ice, and made the huge limbs of the grand old trees on the lawn sway about in every direction. Finally the croaking of frogs was heard from the marshes and the maple buds appeared; whereupon sleds, skates and toboggans were tumbled unceremoniously into some convenient corner, to be taken care of when other duties were not quite so pressing, and Joe and his inseparable companions shouldered their double-barrels and sallied out in search of snipe. But in due time hunting gave way to trout-fishing; and I have heard it said that Old Durability held his own, and captured quite as many fish as any rod that was brought into competition with him. Occasionally I heard Joe boast over some extra fine strings Fly-rod had taken for him; but as I was kept closely confined to my quarters I did not see them.

At last my time came. As soon as the spring rains ceased and the mud disappeared and the roads became ridable, I was taken out for a spin. At first Joe rode with considerable caution, for he was afraid (so he told his chums) that I might "kick up and throw him"; but his skill came back with practice, and before a week had passed we were on exceedingly good terms. He devoted nearly all his leisure time to me, and although he kept up his membership with the various organizations to which he belonged, he was not unfrequently called upon to hand over a fine that had been imposed upon him for non-attendance of drills and parades. Of course the annual review of the Mount Airy Fire Department was not forgotten, but the canoe meet was, and for the first time in years the summer passed without a single struggle for the championship of Mirror Lake. The boys who were enthusiastic canoeists twelve months ago were earnest wheelmen now.

As soon as the weather became settled a new question presented itself to Joe Wayring and his friends, and it was one that could not be decided at a moment's notice. Up to this time it had been understood that there was but one place at which their summer vacation could be passed, and that place was Indian Lake; but four weeks of comparative inactivity were not to be thought of this year.

"Of course if we go to the lake we shall have more fishing and see less excitement than we did last year and the year before, because Matt Coyle will not be there to trouble us," said Arthur. "But rolling about on a blanket under the shade of an evergreen is slow work compared with a brisk run over good roads on a horse who never tires, and who asks nothing but a good rubbing, and no oats, when his day's task is done, to keep him in good trim. Camping out makes a fellow too lazy for any use; and I am not as much in favor of being lazy as I used to be."

"It is quite the fashion for wheelmen to start off singly or in small parties, and travel through the country and see what they can find that is worth looking at," said Roy. "Let's send for a guide-book and go somewhere."

"That's what I say," replied Joe. "But what guide-book shall we send for, and where shall we go?"

"Through our own State, of course. Uncle Joe Wayring says that a fellow ought not to visit foreign countries until he has seen the wonders of his own."