"It's my own fault for going off so far into the country," mused Joe, "and I've got to make up for it as best I can."
"Turn down here to the railroad," a lad called to Joe. "This is the short cut."
Joe steered his machine down a lane, and he soon saw stretching ahead of him the cinder-covered embankment of a single line of railroad. In the distance Joe could see a big depression where the river ran. The stream itself was not very large, but it flowed at the very bottom of a wide and deep valley, and to cross this a long trestle had been necessary.
"Think you can ride it, young man?" asked an elderly man, as Joe halted, for he had to push the machine up the embankment.
"I'm going to make a big attempt," was the answer. "You see, I'm behind my schedule and I've got to make it up."
"You're taking a big risk."
"Well, I'm used to risks," answered Joe with a smile. "I'm a circus trapeze performer."
"That accounts for part of it," went on the man with a smile. "I wish you luck."
"Thanks," murmured Joe as he began to push the heavy motor-cycle up the embankment. Willing hands assisted him, and he soon stood on the railroad tracks themselves. He found that the road-bed was in good condition. The ties, or sleepers, as the wooden supports of the rails are called, were well embedded in cinders, which had been finely pulverized by the action of the weather and by many feet walking over them, for the railroad tracks were often used as a short cut by the people of the neighborhood.
"This won't be half bad to ride on," said Joe, as he kicked at the cinders.