"Sir," said Abe, "allow an old man to shake hands with you. I'm thankful for your offer, but I won't mount now." The boys laughed. "No, sir, not now; but, if you're coming down Blaauw Krantz next Saturday week I'll meet you at the top and ride down." "Can you manage a bicycle?" "I can't now; but I'll larn. Is it a go?" "Let him," said Long Jim, "and we'll all be at the bottom to pick him up." The stranger at last consented, very reluctantly; and it was agreed that on the day named we should be at the "drift". Abe disappeared for several days, returning at the end of that time with several scratches on his hands and a decided stiffness in his legs. He would say nothing to satisfy our curiosity beyond the simple remark that he had been "Larning to steer a lightning wheel-barrer down a hill." On the appointed day, having satisfied ourselves that Abe Pike meant to stick to his contract, we all rode off to the "drift" to await the descent and pick up the pieces. The stranger kept up his side of the agreement; and, as it turned out, he gave up his machine into the shaky control of Uncle Abe, after much advice upon the art of steering round a corner on a slope. Precisely at noon we heard, far up the hill, coming out of the dense wood which hid the road and the curve from our view, the silver tinkle of a bell rung continuously. Clear and sharp the sound came to us as we waited in silence, for the space of a minute, growing louder, till suddenly it ceased. After waiting a minute we all mounted and galloped up. At the great elbow bend we saw the stranger tearing down on foot, but there was no sign of Abe or of the machine. On the road, however, there was the track of the wheel in the dust--a track that faded away up the road, but stopped short at the bend. "Where the blazes!" said Long Jim, looking around and up into the sky. "What's that in the trees?" said Si, pointing down into the forest below the bend. "It's my cycle!" gasped the stranger, as he came up. "What a mad fool I was to let him ride." "Damn your cycle!" said Jim; "where's the old man?" We peered over the edge, and saw him in a thicket blinking up at us. We had him out and up in no time, while two men climbed the tree to recover the machine, the stranger dancing about as if he were on hot bricks. "Is it injured?" he kept on crying. "Injured be blowed," growled Si Amos; "it'll be injured sharp enough if the old man's hurt." "Who said I was hurt," said Abe suddenly, sitting up and feeling his body. "I'm all right; but, boys, my sakes, you'll never b'lieve me, never!" "What's happened? Are you all right? Sure?" Abe slowly rose and felt himself. "Yes. You listen," he said, solemnly. "The stranger's right about them snakes--dead right." "It's no time to joke," said the stranger, looking ruefully at the bent spokes and twisted handle bar.