“Surely,” said Jessie, peering under her hand. “It’s never—”
The tandem tricycle began to ascend the hill, quartering elaborately from side to side to ease the ascent. It was evident, from his heaving shoulders and depressed head, that the burly gentleman was exerting himself. The clerical person on the tricycle assumed the shape of a note of interrogation. Then on the heels of this procession came a dogcart driven by a man in a billycock hat and containing a lady in dark green.
“Looks like some sort of excursion,” said Hoopdriver.
Jessie did not answer. She was still peering under her hand. “Surely,” she said.
The clergyman’s efforts were becoming convulsive. With a curious jerking motion, the tricycle he rode twisted round upon itself, and he partly dismounted and partly fell off. He turned his machine up hill again immediately and began to wheel it. Then the burly gentleman dismounted, and with a courtly attentiveness assisted the lady in grey to alight. There was some little difference of opinion as to assistance, she so clearly wished to help push. Finally she gave in, and the burly gentleman began impelling the machine up hill by his own unaided strength. His face made a dot of brilliant colour among the greys and greens at the foot of the hill. The tandem bicycle was now, it seems, repaired, and this joined the tail of the procession, its riders walking behind the dogcart, from which the lady in green and the driver had now descended.
“Mr. Hoopdriver,” said Jessie. “Those people—I’m almost sure—”
“Lord!” said Mr. Hoopdriver, reading the rest in her face, and he turned to pick up his machine at once. Then he dropped it and assisted her to mount.
At the sight of Jessie mounting against the sky line the people coming up the hill suddenly became excited and ended Jessie’s doubts at once. Two handkerchiefs waved, and someone shouted. The riders of the tandem bicycle began to run it up hill, past the other vehicles. But our young people did not wait for further developments of the pursuit. In another moment they were out of sight, riding hard down a steady incline towards Stoney Cross.
Before they had dropped among the trees out of sight of the hill brow, Jessie looked back and saw the tandem rising over the crest, with its rear rider just tumbling into the saddle. “They’re coming,” she said, and bent her head over her handles in true professional style.
They whirled down into the valley, over a white bridge, and saw ahead of them a number of shaggy little ponies frisking in the roadway. Involuntarily they slackened. “Shoo!” said Mr. Hoopdriver, and the ponies kicked up their heels derisively. At that Mr. Hoopdriver lost his temper and charged at them, narrowly missed one, and sent them jumping the ditch into the bracken under the trees, leaving the way clear for Jessie.
Then the road rose quietly but persistently; the treadles grew heavy, and Mr. Hoopdriver’s breath sounded like a saw. The tandem appeared, making frightful exertions, at the foot, while the chase was still climbing. Then, thank Heaven! a crest and a stretch of up and down road, whose only disadvantage was its pitiless exposure to the afternoon sun. The tandem apparently dismounted at the hill, and did not appear against the hot blue sky until they were already near some trees and a good mile away.
“We’re gaining,” said Mr. Hoopdriver, with a little Niagara of perspiration dropping from brow to cheek. “That hill—”
But that was their only gleam of success. They were both nearly spent. Hoopdriver, indeed, was quite spent, and only a feeling of shame prolonged the liquidation of his bankrupt physique. From that point the tandem grained upon them steadily. At the Rufus Stone, it was scarcely a hundred yards behind. Then one desperate spurt, and they found themselves upon a steady downhill stretch among thick pine woods. Downhill nothing can beat a highly geared tandem bicycle. Automatically Mr. Hoopdriver put up his feet, and Jessie slackened her pace. In another moment they heard the swish of the fat pneumatics behind them, and the tandem passed Hoopdriver and drew alongside Jessie. Hoopdriver felt a mad impulse to collide with this abominable machine as it passed him. His only consolation was to notice that its riders, riding violently, were quite as dishevelled as himself and smothered in sandy white dust.
Abruptly Jessie stopped and dismounted, and the tandem riders shot panting past them downhill. “Brake,” said Dangle, who was riding behind, and stood up on the pedals. For a moment the velocity of the thing increased, and then they saw the dust fly from the brake, as it came down on the front tire. Dangle’s right leg floundered in the air as he came off in the road. The tandem wobbled. “Hold it!” cried Phipps over his shoulder, going on downhill. “I can’t get off if you don’t hold it.” He put on the brake until the machine stopped almost dead, and then feeling unstable began to pedal again. Dangle shouted after him. “Put out your foot, man,” said Dangle.
In this way the tandem riders were carried a good hundred yards or more beyond their quarry. Then Phipps realized his possibilities, slacked up with the brake, and let the thing go over sideways, dropping on to his right foot. With his left leg still over the saddle, and still holding the handles, he looked over his shoulder and began addressing uncomplimentary remarks to Dangle. “You only think of yourself,” said Phipps, with a florid face.
“They have forgotten us,” said Jessie, turning her machine.
“There was a road at the top of the hill—to Lyndhurst,” said Hoopdriver, following her example.
“It’s no good. There’s the money. We must give it up. But let us go back to that hotel at Rufus Stone. I don’t see why
