Motor Matt's Double Trouble; or, The Last of the Hoodoo

by Stanley R. Matthews

Matt mounted easily, thrust his toes into the toe clips, and got under way. When he turned an angle of the road, and vanished behind a screen of timber, he was going like a steam engine.

It had been a long time since Matt had ridden an ordinary bicycle, but he had by no means forgotten the knack. He was not long in coming within sight of the bridge, and there, sure enough, were the Chinaman and the mule at the bridge approach.

The Chinaman was having trouble. General Jackson would not cross the bridge, and he was braced back, immovable as the rock of Gibraltar. Sam Wing was using his heels and the flat of his hand in a furious attempt to force the brute onward. General Jackson did not budge an inch, but, from the way he wagged his ears, it was evident that his wrath was growing.

Matt remained silent and bent to the pedals. While Sam Wing was busy urging the mule, Matt was planning to come alongside and treat the Celestial as he had treated the old negro.

This design might have been successfully executed had not General Jackson interfered with it. The mule's temper suddenly gave way under the rain of kicks and blows, and he put his head down between his forelegs and hoisted the rear half of his body into the air. The manœuvre was as sudden as it was unexpected, and Sam Wing went rocketing into space.

The bridge was merely a plank affair, without any guard rails at the sides, and after the Chinaman had done a couple of somersaults in the air he landed with a thump on the bridge, close to the unprotected edge. He started to struggle upright, and the hurried movement caused him to slip over the brink.

He vanished from before Matt's eyes just as he had disappeared from the caving bank—there was a flutter, a yell, a splash, and Sam Wing was gone.

Matt threw on the brake, jumped from the wheel, and, after leaning the machine against a tree, rushed to the bridge.

The creek was narrow, but seemed to be deep, and the Chinaman was floating down with the current.

There was no time for Matt to linger and explain events to the bicyclist and the negro. Each would recover his property, however, and that ought to satisfy both of them. Springing from the bridge approach, Matt hurried down the bank of the little stream.