“You will. And, what’s more, when the young lady asks me what’s happened to you, I’ll be able to say that I don’t know because you went off without paying your bill.” Jimmy O’Loughlin had a sensitive conscience. He could lie without hesitation when circumstances required it of him, but he preferred, where possible, to deceive without departing from the literal truth. CHAPTER XIII Mr. Dick, who was a man of energy, rode fast. Mr. Sanders toiled behind him, but was able to keep him in sight because Mr. Dick dismounted and waited for him at the top of every hill. The day was hot, and there was very little breeze. Neither of the men was in good training. Both of them became thirsty. Five miles outside of Clonmore the road crosses a small river. Mr. Dick stopped on the bridge, and, when Mr. Sanders overtook him, proposed that they should take a drink. They made their way down to the stream, lay on their stomachs, and sucked up large quantities of luke-warm water. Then they rode on again, and, as might have been expected, became much hotter and thirstier than they were before. Mr. Dick stopped again, this time at a pool. Mr. Sanders, though very thirsty, expressed doubts about the wholesomeness of the water. Mr. Dick explained briefly that, as there was no human habitation in sight, the pool could not possibly be polluted by drains. Then he lay down and drank as eagerly as a camel at an oasis. The pool was shallow, and the violence of his sucking stirred up a good deal of mud. Mr. Sanders, realizing that every moment’s delay increased the chance of his getting typhoid fever from his draught, chose the cleanest corner of the pool and drank a great deal more than was good for him. The water of the pool was even warmer than that of the river. Then it was discovered that one of the tyres of the bicycle ridden by Mr. Dick had burst. He had pumped it too vehemently, and the heat of the sun had swelled the air inside until the strain was too great for the cover. Both tool-bags were examined, but no materials for repair were found in them. Even under these circumstances Mr. Dick remained cheerful. “We’ll walk on,” he said, “until we come to a police barrack. We’re bound to come to one soon.” “What good will that be?” Mr. Sanders did not want to walk on if he could help it. “In Ireland,” said Mr. Dick, “the police are experts at repairing bicycles. One of the people we met last week told me that. He was an inspector of something, and was always going about the country, so he’d be sure to know.” “In any case,” said Mr. Sanders, “there isn’t likely to be a police barrack about here. There are no houses. We haven’t passed a single human habitation for the last twenty minutes.” Mr. Dick overruled this objection at once. He had been studying the Irish question for a whole fortnight, and he thoroughly understood the country.