Jimmieboy hastened to obey, and for five minutes watched his strange little friend anxiously.
"Feel any lighter?" he said.
"Yes," whispered Bikey, almost shivering with delight. "My front wheel is off the floor already. I think twenty feet more will be enough there, and when you've filled up the hind tire—ta—ta—ti—tum—ti—too—ha—ha! Then we'll go skiking."
The plan was followed out, and when both tires had taken in as much gas as they could hold Bikey called hoarsely to Jimmieboy:—
"Quick! Quick! Jump aboard or I'll be off without you. Is the door open?"
"No," said Jimmieboy, clambering into the saddle, after turning off the gas and screwing the caps firmly on both tires, "b—but the par—par—parlor window is."
"Good," cried Bikey. "We'll sail through that! Give the right pedal a good turn; now—one—two—three—we're off!"
And they were off. Out of the hall they flew, through the parlor without touching the floor, and then sailed through the window out into the moonlight night.
"Isn't it great," cried Bikey, trembling with delight.