rubbing arnica into his knee--a new and very big place--and
studying a Road Map of the South of England. Briggs of the
"dresses," who shared the room with him, was sitting up in bed
and trying to smoke in the dark. Briggs had never been on a cycle
in his life, but he felt Hoopdriver's inexperience and offered
such advice as occurred to him.

"Have the machine thoroughly well oiled," said Briggs, "carry one
or two lemons with you, don't tear yourself to death the first
day, and sit upright. Never lose control of the machine, and
always sound the bell on every possible opportunity. You mind
those things, and nothing very much can't happen to you,
Hoopdriver--you take my word."

He would lapse into silence for a minute, save perhaps for a
curse or so at his pipe, and then break out with an entirely
different set of tips.

"Avoid running over dogs, Hoopdriver, whatever you do. It's one
of the worst things you can do to run over a dog. Never let the
machine buckle--there was a man killed only the other day through
his wheel buckling--don't scorch, don't ride on the foot-path,
keep your own side of the road, and if you see a tram- line, go
round the corner at once, and hurry off into the next county--and
always light up before dark. You mind just a few little things
like that, Hoopdriver, and nothing much can't happen to you--you
take my word."

"Right you are!" said Hoopdriver. "Good-night, old man."