Once again on the road he turned his face toward home. After all, this six or seven-mile run was only a good touch of exercise, and he would sleep all the sounder on account of it. Besides, Frank loved nothing better than to do something for the parent who all his life had been so indulgent to him.
As he pedaled along, keeping his eyes well ahead, so as to glimpse any vehicle that might loom up in his path, he was thinking of what Andy had in mind. While the project was as yet rather uncertain, Frank seemed to feel that his cousin could never be wholly satisfied that he had done his duty by his father until he had spent some time down on the Isthmus trying to get some traces of the lost aeronaut.
"I reckon I ought to know something of Andy's persistence," he said to himself, with a chuckle. "And now that he's got this bee in his bonnet there'll be no peace until he tries the scheme out. Sure I'm with him from the word go. It makes me shiver all over with expectation just to think of what glorious times we two chums might have—hello! there's something ahead, and I'd better slow up!"
It proved to be a farm wagon, pulled by two tired nags, and headed for home, after a day in the town market. The driver was asleep on the seat, leaving to the sagacity of his animals the successful navigation of the road.
Perhaps some movement of the horses or else the bright light of the acetylene headlight falling on his face aroused the man, for he sat up as Frank was about passing.
"Hello! is that you, Frank Bird?" he asked, leaning forward to look closer at the rider of the bicycle.
"Sure; just been up to your neighbor's, Lovejoy's, with some medicine for his Sue," returned the boy, recognizing the farmer.
"How is the gal gettin' on?" called the other, over the canvas top of his seat.
"Fine. No danger, dad says!" answered Frank.
"That's good!" he heard the sympathetic neighbor remark, as he moved on.