60 The N. S. Bicycle.

Poor Gordon’s supper time was now long past,
and he began to feel very hungry, you see. A
dreadful thought suddenly came to him—*“If I
go on at this pace I am sure that in a few days
the land will give out, and then I suppose I
shall have to ride right into the ocean.” At this
fearful idea, Gordon’s tears began to flow. He
was now approaching a large town and every one
he met looked at him in surprise, for to see a ten-
year-old boy on a bicycle riding so wonderfully
fast, and crying as if his heart would break, was a
strange sight truly.

‘Where are you going, little boy?” they
cried.

“T am sure, I don’t know,” said Gordon, and
before they could say any more he was gone. He
passed a big railway station and saw by its sign
that he was in the town of Boreborough, forty
miles from his home, and at this his tears again
gushed forth.

‘Wot yer cryin’ *bout ?” said a very small and
very dirty boy, who was playing in the street.
“Yer a great big cry-baby, an’ yer’d better turn