ankly, and perceived the boy and girl.

"Well," he exclaimed, "you're here, eh? Wonder you didn't come in like a
wild Indian, too. What's the matter?"

"Got a puncture," said Little Tim.

The colonel, having had the refreshment of his sleep, was in a better
humour. He was a little interested in the bicycle.

"Queer what new-fangled ideas they get," he said. "That's not much like
what I used to ride."

Little Tim looked up, surprised.

"Why, did you use to ride a wheel?" he asked.

"Did I!" exclaimed Colonel Witham, reviving old recollections, with a
touch of pride in his voice. "Well, now I reckon you wouldn't believe I
used to be the crack velocipede rider in the town I came from, eh?"

Little Tim, regarding the colonel's swelling waist-band and fat, puffy
cheeks, betrayed his skepticism in looks rather than in speech. Colonel
Witham continued.

"Yes, sir," said he, "there weren't any of them could beat me in those
days. Why, I've got four medals now somewhere around, that I won at
county fairs in races. 'Twasn't any of these wire whirligigs, either,
that we used to ride. Old bone-shakers, they were; wooden wheels and a
solid wrought iron backbone. You had to have the strength to make that
run. Guess some of these spindle-legged city chaps wouldn't make much of
a go at that. I've got the old machine out in the shed there, somewhere.
Like to see it?"

"I know where it is," said Bess Thornton. "I can ride it."

"You ride it!" exclaimed Colonel Witham, staring at her in amazement.
"What?"

"Yes," replied the girl; "but only down hill, though. It's too hard to
push on the level. I'll go and get it."

"Well, I vum!" exclaimed Colonel Witham, as the girl started for the
shed. "That girl beats me."

"Look out, I'm coming," called a childish voice, presently.

The door of the shed was pushed open, and Bess Thornton, standing on a
stool, could be seen climbing into the saddle of what resembled closely
a pair of wagon wheels connected by a curving bar of iron. She steadied
herself for a moment, holding to the side of the doorway; then pushed
herself away from it, came down the plank incline, and thence on to the
path leading from the elevation on which the shed stood, at full speed.
Her legs, too short for her feet to touch the pedals as they made a
complete revolution, stuck out at an angle; but she guided the wheel and
rode past Tim Reardon and the colonel, triumphantly. When the wheel
stopped, she let it fa