Part 1 (1/2)

Bikey the Skicycle and Other Tales of Jimmieboy.

by John Kendrick Bangs.

I

_HOW IT ALL CAME ABOUT_

Jimmieboy's father had bought him a bicycle, and inasmuch as it was provided with a bag of tools and a nickel plated bell the small youth was very much pleased with the gift.

”It's got rheumatic tires, too,” he said, when describing it to one of his little friends.

”What's that?” asked the boy.

”Big pieces of hose pipe,” said Jimmieboy. ”They run all around the outside of the wheel and when you fill 'em up with wind and screw 'em up tight so's the wind can't get out, papa says, you can go over anything easy as a bird.”

”I s'pose,” said the little friend, ”it's sort of like sailing, maybe.

The wind keeps blowing inside o' those pipes and that makes the wheels go round.”

”I guess that's it,” returned Jimmieboy.

”But I don't see why they call 'em rheumatic,” said the other boy.

”Nor I don't, either,” said Jimmieboy, ”unless it's because they move a little stiff at first.”

It was not long, however, before Jimmieboy discovered that his father had made a mistake when he said that the pneumatic tire would enable a bicycle to ride over anything, for about a week later Jimmieboy tried to ride over the shaft of a lawn mower with his wheel, with disastrous results. The boy took a header, and while he himself was not hurt beyond a scratch or two and a slight shaking up, which took away his appet.i.te, the wonderful rubber tire was badly battered. What was worse, the experience made Jimmieboy a little afraid of his new possession, and for some time it lay neglected.

A few nights ago, however, Jimmieboy's interest in his wheel was aroused once more, and to-day it is greater than ever, and it all came about in this way. His father and mother had gone out to make some calls and the youngster was spending a few minutes of solitude over a very fine fairy book that had recently been sent to him. While he was gazing at a magnificent picture of Jack slaying two giants with his left hand and throttling a dragon with his right, there came a sudden tinkling of a bell.

”Somebody's at the telephone,” thought Jimmieboy, and started to go to it, when the ringing sound came again, but from a part of the house entirely away from the neighborhood of the telephone.

”Humph,” said Jimmieboy. ”That's queer. It isn't the telephone and it can't be the front door bell--I guess it's the----”

”It's me--Bikey,” came a merry voice from behind the door.

”Who?” cried Jimmieboy.

”Bikey,” replied the voice. ”Don't you remember Bikey, who threw you over the lawn mower?”

Jimmieboy turned about, and sure enough there stood his neglected wheel.

”I hope you weren't hurt by your tumble,” said the little bicycle standing up on its hind wheel and putting its treadles softly on Jimmieboy's shoulders, as if it were caressing him.

”No,” said Jimmieboy. ”The only thing was that it took away my appet.i.te, and it was on apple pie day. It isn't pleasant to feel as if you couldn't eat a thing with a fine apple pie staring you in the face. That was all I felt badly about.”

”I'm sorry about the pie,” returned the little bicycle, ”but glad you didn't flatten your nose or put your teeth out of joint, as you might easily have done. I knew a boy once who took a header just as you did, and after he got up he found that he'd broken the brim of his hat and turned a beautiful Roman nose into a stub nose.”

”You mean snub nose, don't you?” asked Jimmieboy.

”No, I mean stub. Stub means more than snub. Snub means just a plain turn up nose, but stub means that it's not only turned up, but has very little of itself left. It's just a stub--that's all,” explained the bicycle. ”Another boy I knew fell so hard that he pushed his whole face right through to the back of his head, and you don't know how queer it looks to see him walking backward on his way to school.”