226 The Bold Bad Bicycle.

hooked back as usual, and the man went off for
his broom. Now was the Bicycle’s chance, and
silently, swiftly, he glided away.

Out of the door, across the sidewalk and with
a big dump down into the street, for being a bright
little fellow, he knew, although no one had told
him, that the sidewalk was not the proper place for
a bicycle. Oh, how happy he was, how free he felt.
The street was quite deserted at this early hour,
and so no one was astonished at seeing a bicycle
whizzing along faster than any bicycle had ever
been known to go before, turning to the right or
left, as the fancy struck him, and with no rider!
Soon he met a dog, a large St. Bernard, stout
and dignified, who had lived a long life, and knew
much more than he ever told. He glanced at the
Bicycle, and then—then—his two eyes grew as big
as saucers and with one agonized howl of terror,
he was off. The Bicycle laughed and hurried on.
His next encounter was with a sad-looking horse
drawing a milk-wagon, who gave one look at him,
and then like the dog, ran away, scattering the
milk-cans over the road as he went. His master,