As he had said, his wheel was in good shape, with neither tire needing
any pumping up. And even his acetylene headlight had only to be
attached, which task took but a short time.

"I declare!" he exclaimed, as he rested his wheel against the gate and
turned back, "that would have been a rough joke on me if I'd gone
spinning off and only remembered after I'd almost got there that I
forgot to take the package of medicine out of dad's little runabout. So
much for having my brain full of that wonderful scheme of Andy's."

He found the medicine, and as the packet turned out to be small enough
to be stowed away in one of his coat pockets, Frank so disposed of
it. Then wheeling his machine out into the road he took a last look at
the lantern, to see that the water might not be dripping on the carbide
too rapidly to combine the greatest efficiency. After that he swung into
the saddle, starting off with the perfect freedom that proclaims the
rider a master of his wheel.

Once he passed out of town Frank made good progress. He had a ride of
several miles before him, ere he could expect to reach the farmhouse of
Jason Lovejoy, one of his father's oldest customers and friends.

There was no help from the moon, because the sky had clouded up and
screened the young queen of the skies. But Frank needed no other light
than the brilliant glow that spread out along the road ahead of him
coming from his lamp.

It happened that he passed the home of Colonel Josiah Whympers, the
retired and lame traveler, in whose care Andy had been left by the will
which his father had made before starting on what had proven his last