And what talks we had had about our adventures in prospective! A rousing change, too, was admittedly just the very thing he stood in need of. He could well afford both the time and the money. An "adventure" he was the one to thoroughly enjoy. But—the smile of the fellows left behind, their laugh and jest in case of failure; it was more than a sensitive man could bear to think of. And so he stayed at home.
Two could travel in safety where one might perish. If one machine broke down, the other at least might bear food and water to the derelict rider. But if the derelict rider were alone, stricken ill, fallen a victim to accident far from any settlement—
Not a pleasant track—let us seek another.
There was the continent. No bicycle had crossed it. That was my something, resolved upon long ago. And if it had to be done alone—it might be misfortune. Who knows—it might also be the other thing!
* * * *
It was, then, to be a solitary ride. But that the bona fides of it could not very well be disputed, I had printed a many-paged book, ruled vertically. The headings to the spaces were:—"Distance," "Date," "Time," "Presence vouched for at," "By," "Address," "Departure," with a blank page opposite for "Mems re road."
Being well aware that many people would certainly be averse to hurriedly entering their names in the book of an entire stranger—a stranger, too, who must resolutely decline to state his business, his object, or his destination—I determined to call on and make known my intention to two or three "leading men," foreseeing that, could I but obtain their signatures to begin with, others would be only too pleased, or at least would not refuse, to add theirs to the list.
Luckily the first of the notabilities I waited on took kindly to the idea, and at once very courteously obliged me. To him my thanks are once more repeated; and neither of the other two gentlemen next seen demurred.
Yet even this task was not accomplished without the customary kindly-intentioned warnings. Thus one of the three said:—"Do you know you face Death in seriously attempting to do this journey?" What answer could be more common-place than mine—"One has to die some time, sir?"
"Death"!—the word, spoken generally with much unction, and I were grown familiar.