"I wonder if Tom Bigden and his cousin are going anywhere," said Arthur. "If they are I hope they will take some route that will lead them out of our line of travel."
The others hoped so, too. While they tried to live in peace with Tom, they did not care to have him for a traveling companion.
Joe and his chums thought it best to heed the Omaha man's friendly word of caution, and if they had ridden hard before, they rode harder now. A ten-mile spin in the cool of the evening was an every-day occurrence. Of course they did not ride on Sunday, and, furthermore, they did not think much of a fellow who did.
The morning set for the start dawned clear and bright, and after an early breakfast Joe Wayring waved his adieu to the family who had assembled on the porch to see him off, and wheeled gaily out of his father's grounds just in time to meet Arthur Hastings. Picking up Roy Sheldon a few minutes later, the three set off at a lively pace over a good road, their long journey being fairly begun. The trunks which contained most of their luggage had been forwarded to the wheelmen's headquarters at New London, with the request that they might be held until called for; but several handy little articles, which they might need at any time, were made up into neat bundles and tied to their safety-bars. Of course their lamps and cyclometers were in their places, and so were their Buffalo tool-bags; and each boy carried slung over his shoulder a bicycle gun-case containing a fourteen-inch pocket rifle. They were innocent-looking little pop-guns, but "spiteful things to shoot," and one of them came very near bringing the boys into serious trouble.
"I wouldn't take a dollar for my chance of enjoying myself this trip," said Roy, as he wheeled into line behind his companions. "During our two last outings Matt Coyle and his interesting family made things quite too lively to suit me, but they'll not bother us any more. Now isn't this glorious? I remember of reading somewhere that if one has a hankering for wings, and feels as if he would like to glide out into space and leave the world with its cares and troubles behind, all he has to do is to buy a bicycle, and learn to ride it."
Roy's companions must have felt a good deal as he did, for both of them had something to say about the "joys that no one but a wheelman knows," but their exuberance of spirit did not lead them to commit the blunder of riding hard at the start. When they drew up in front of wheelmen's headquarters in New London that night, their cyclometers registered thirty-six miles; not a very speedy run, to be sure, but then they had not set out with any intention of trying to break the record. In accordance with their request the hotel clerk assigned them to rooms "as close together as he could get them," and after seeing their wheels safely stored, the boys disappeared for a while to remove all travel-stains from their hands, faces and clothing. Then they ate a hearty supper, and adjourned to the reading-room to decide where they would spend the evening. A long time had elapsed since they last visited New London, and they had planned to remain in the city until they had taken a look at all the new things there were to be seen. That would take three or four days, they thought; but, as it happened, some strange events occurred which prolonged their stay, and threatened at one time to bring their trip to an inglorious close.
"What's going on to-night, any way?" said Arthur, picking up a paper and glancing at the advertisements that appeared under the heading "Amusements!" "Some pianist, with an unpronounceable name, assisted by a celebrated baritone, is to hold forth at the Academy of Music."
"Let's take that in," said Joe; and the matter was settled, for all the boys liked to listen to good music.
Having plenty of time at their disposal Joe and his companions strolled leisurely along, taking note of all that passed in their immediate vicinity, and now and then stopping to look in at a show-window, especially if it chanced to be one in which bicycle goods or hunting and fishing equipments were displayed. That, I believe, is characteristic of people, both old and young, who are not accustomed to the sights of a big city—a sort of distinguishing trait, so to speak. At any rate the interest that Joe and his chums seemed to take in the well-filled windows attracted the attention of a spruce young fellow, who after following them for an entire block, and looking up and down the street as if to make sure that his movements were unobserved, stepped up to the nearest of the boys and tapped him on the shoulder.
"Beg pardon," said he, smilingly, as Arthur Hastings turned and faced him. "You young gentlemen are wheelmen, I take it."