Frank walked to the barn, and soon found Tom Grandon, the hotel keeper’s son. He also saw the wheel, which was in the carriage shed.
“So you’d like to hire my wheel, eh?” said Tom. “I’m willing, if you’ll promise to take good care of it.”
“I’ll do that. I have a wheel at home, but I didn’t think to bring it.”
“What will you give me for its use?”
“Twenty-five cents a day.”
“Make it fifty cents and I’ll take you up.”
“Let us split the price and make it a dollar for three days,” went on Frank; and to this Tom Grandon agreed, and the bicycle was turned over to the young book agent. As tired as he was Frank tried the machine, to see that it was in running order, and to adjust the seat and the handle bars to suit him.
“Now I’ll be able to visit twice as many places,” he told himself.
The following day Frank started away early, with his case of books strapped over his shoulder. In the hotel office he had found a map of the county and had studied the roads carefully, and he had also asked about their condition.
It was a perfect day, and as he was a good wheelman he made rapid progress, so that he reached the first place at which he wished to stop by eight o’clock. He found the lady of the house in the garden cutting a bouquet.