Trickers chasing one another among the
trees."

"The New Trickers!" said Harrasford. "Bicyclists: that's very stale. And,
besides, what about you?"

"Has one ever," asked Jimmy, "seen a music-hall give two similar special
turns, two bicycle turns, for instance, in the same show?"

"Absurd!" said Harrasford. "Explain yourself."

"It's to differentiate between my invention and trick-riding from the very
first," replied Jimmy, "to show, once and for all, that mine has nothing
in common with the ordinary turns you see on the stage: 'Bridging the
Abyss' or 'Looping the Loop.'"

"You may be right," said Harrasford, "it will prevent confusion; yours is
purely scientific. And the New Trickers: tights? Bloomers?"

"Skirts, all in white, Warwick style," said Jimmy. "A school-girls' spree:
see-saw on the bike ... somersaults over the benches ... waltzes, lively
tunes: an impression of gaiety and happiness. The star is a statue on a
pedestal in the park. The others throw flowers to her. She wakes; steps
down: 'Hullo, a bike!' And then a special tune for the star and a waltz on
the back-wheel, amid the admiring circle of school-girls."

"All right," said Harrasford. "And what's the price of the New Trickers?"

"So much."

And he jotted it down in his note-book, near the prices of Dare Devil and
Cataplasm.

Jimmy also took notes, mentioned the names of the great serio, the great
comic singer, with their figures:

"So much."

"They earn their money pretty easily, those two!" grunted Harrasford. "But
I've got to submit to it, I suppose. Next?"

Jimmy only described the spectacular turns. Harrasford listened, saw it in
his head: a corner of untamed nature, a valley in the mountains, blue
distances, sunshine in the foreground. The Three Graces arrive all out of
breath.

"You understand," said Jimmy, "they are supposed to have been chasing the
deer or hunting butterflies. As a matter of fact, Mr. Fuchs will have made
them do their Sandow, before going on, to bring the blood to their cheeks;
he's full of ideas, is Mr. Fuchs. On arriving, a moment's rest, an
adorable group in all the splendor of the nude ... sweet, solemn music ...
and then a glorious performance, a sort of human cluster hanging from the
trapezes, something healthy and robust."

"All right," said Harrasford, putting a cross in his note-book opposite
the Three Graces. "And next?"

With Harrasford it was always "And next?" like a man who never has more
th