sweaters.

Shooting out through the entrance to Golden Gate Park, they turned into
San Francisco, and took the long sweep of the descending hills at a rate
that caused pedestrians to turn and watch them anxiously. Through the
city streets the bright sweaters flew, turning and twisting to escape
climbing the steeper hills, and, when the steep hills were unavoidable,
doing stunts to see which would first gain the top.

The boy who more often hit up the pace, led the scorching, and instituted
the stunts was called Joe by his companions. It was "follow the leader,"
and he led, the merriest and boldest in the bunch. But as they pedaled
into the Western Addition, among the large and comfortable residences,
his laughter became less loud and frequent, and he unconsciously lagged
in the rear. At Laguna and Vallejo streets his companions turned off to
the right.

"So long, Fred," he called as he turned his wheel to the left. "So long,
Charley."

"See you to-night!" they called back.

"No--I can't come," he answered.

"Aw, come on," they begged.

"No, I've got to dig.--So long!"

As he went on alone, his face grew grave and a vague worry came into his
eyes. He began resolutely to whistle, but this dwindled away till it was