three men on the bummel-第32章

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〃Besides；　it　has　been　an　exceptionally　hot　day　to…day。〃

〃Well；　don't　forget　St。　Blasien　is　twenty…five　miles　off；　that's
all。〃

〃Any　more　hills？〃

〃Yes；　two；　up　and　down。〃

〃I　thought　you　said　it　was　downhill　into　St。　Blasien？〃

〃So　it　is　for　the　last　ten　miles。　　We　are　twenty…five　miles　from
St。　Blasien　here。〃

〃Isn't　there　anywhere　between　here　and　St。　Blasien？　　What's　that
little　place　there　on　the　lake？〃

〃It　isn't　St。　Blasien；　or　anywhere　near　it。　　There's　a　danger　in
beginning　that　sort　of　thing。〃

〃There's　a　danger　in　overworking　oneself。　　One　should　study
moderation　in　all　things。　　Pretty　little　place；　that　Titisee；
according　to　the　map；　looks　as　if　there　would　be　good　air　there。〃

〃All　right；　I'm　agreeable。　　It　was　you　fellows　who　suggested　our
making　for　St。　Blasien。〃

〃Oh；　I'm　not　so　keen　on　St。　Blasien！　poky　little　place；　down　in　a
valley。　　This　Titisee；　I　should　say；　was　ever　so　much　nicer。〃

〃Quite　near；　isn't　it？〃

〃Five　miles。〃

General　chorus：　　〃We'll　stop　at　Titisee。〃

George　made　discovery　of　this　difference　between　theory　and
practice　on　the　very　first　day　of　our　ride。

〃I　thought；〃　said　Georgehe　was　riding　the　single；　Harris　and　I
being　a　little　ahead　on　the　tandem〃that　the　idea　was　to　train　up
the　hills　and　ride　down　them。〃

〃So　it　is；〃　answered　Harris；　〃as　a　general　rule。　　But　the　trains
don't　go　up　EVERY　hill　in　the　Black　Forest。〃

〃Somehow；　I　felt　a　suspicion　that　they　wouldn't；〃　growled　George；
and　for　awhile　silence　reigned。

〃Besides；〃　remarked　Harris；　who　had　evidently　been　ruminating　the
subject；　〃you　would　not　wish　to　have　nothing　but　downhill；　surely。
It　would　not　be　playing　the　game。　　One　must　take　a　little　rough
with　one's　smooth。〃

Again　there　returned　silence；　broken　after　awhile　by　George；　this
time。

〃Don't　you　two　fellows　over…exert　yourselves　merely　on　my　account；〃
said　George。

〃How　do　you　mean？〃　asked　Harris。

〃I　mean；〃　answered　George；　〃that　where　a　train　does　happen　to　be
going　up　these　hills；　don't　you　put　aside　the　idea　of　taking　it　for
fear　of　outraging　my　finer　feelings。　　Personally；　I　am　prepared　to
go　up　all　these　hills　in　a　railway　train；　even　if　it's　not　playing
the　game。　　I'll　square　the　thing　with　my　conscience；　I've　been　up
at　seven　every　day　for　a　week　now；　and　I　calculate　it　owes　me　a
bit。　　Don't　you　consider　me　in　the　matter　at　all。〃

We　promised　to　bear　this　in　mind；　and　again　the　ride　continued　in
dogged　dumbness；　until　it　was　again　broken　by　George。

〃What　bicycle　did　you　say　this　was　of　yours？〃　asked　George。

Harris　told　him。　　I　forget　of　what　particular　manufacture　it
happened　to　be；　it　is　immaterial。

〃Are　you　sure？〃　persisted　George。

〃Of　course　I　am　sure；〃　answered　Harris。　　〃Why；　what's　the　matter
with　it？〃

〃Well；　it　doesn't　come　up　to　the　poster；〃　said　George；　〃that's
all。〃

〃What　poster？〃　asked　Harris。

〃The　poster　advertising　this　particular　brand　of　cycle；〃　explained
George。　　〃I　was　looking　at　one　on　a　hoarding　in　Sloane　Street　only
a　day　or　two　before　we　started。　　A　man　was　riding　this　make　of
machine；　a　man　with　a　banner　in　his　hand：　　he　wasn't　doing　any
work；　that　was　clear　as　daylight；　he　was　just　sitting　on　the　thing
and　drinking　in　the　air。　　The　cycle　was　going　of　its　own　accord；
and　going　well。　　This　thing　of　yours　leaves　all　the　work　to　me。　　It
is　a　lazy　brute　of　a　machine；　if　you　don't　shove；　it　simply　does
nothing：　　I　should　complain　about　it；　if　I　were　you。〃

When　one　comes　to　think　of　it；　few　bicycles　do　realise　the　poster。
On　only　one　poster　that　I　can　recollect　have　I　seen　the　rider
represented　as　doing　any　work。　　But　then　this　man　was　being　pursued
by　a　bull。　　In　ordinary　cases　the　object　of　the　artist　is　to
convince　the　hesitating　neophyte　that　the　sport　of　bicycling
consists　in　sitting　on　a　luxurious　saddle；　and　being　moved　rapidly
in　the　direction　you　wish　to　go　by　unseen　heavenly　powers。

Generally　speaking；　the　rider　is　a　lady；　and　then　one　feels　that；
for　perfect　bodily　rest　combined　with　entire　freedom　from　mental
anxiety；　slumber　upon　a　water…bed　cannot　compare　with　bicycle…
riding　upon　a　hilly　road。　　No　fairy　travelling　on　a　summer　cloud
could　take　things　more　easily　than　does　the　bicycle　girl；　according
to　the　poster。　　Her　costume　for　cycling　in　hot　weather　is　ideal。
Old…fashioned　landladies　might　refuse　her　lunch；　it　is　true；　and　a
narrowminded　police　force　might　desire　to　secure　her；　and　wrap　her
in　a　rug　preliminary　to　summonsing　her。　　But　such　she　heeds　not。
Uphill　and　downhill；　through　traffic　that　might　tax　the　ingenuity
of　a　cat；　over　road　surfaces　calculated　to　break　the　average　steam
roller　she　passes；　a　vision　of　idle　loveliness；　her　fair　hair
streaming　to　the　wind；　her　sylph…like　form　poised　airily；　one　foot
upon　the　saddle；　the　other　resting　lightly　upon　the　lamp。
Sometimes　she　condescends　to　sit　down　on　the　saddle；　then　she　puts
her　feet　on　the　rests；　lights　a　cigarette；　and　waves　above　her　head
a　Chinese　lantern。

Less　often；　it　is　a　mere　male　thing　that　rides　the　machine。　　He　is
not　so　accomplished　an　acrobat　as　is　the　lady；　but　simple　tricks；
such　as　standing　on　the　saddle　and　waving　flags；　drinking　beer　or
beef…tea　while　riding；　he　can　and　does　perform。　　Something；　one
supposes；　he　must　do　to　occupy　his　mind：　　sitting　still　hour　after
hour　on　this　machine；　having　no　work　to　do；　nothing　to　think　about；
must　pall　upon　any　man　of　active　temperament。　　Thus　it　is　that　we
see　him　rising　on　his　pedals　as　he　nears　the　top　of　some　high　hill
to　apostrophise　the　sun；　or　address　poetry　to　the　surrounding
scenery。

Occasionally　the　poster　pictures　a　pair　of　cyclists；　and　then　one
grasps　the　fact　how　much　superior　for　purposes　of　flirtation　is　the
modern　bicycle　to　the　old…fashioned　parlour　or　the　played…out
garden　gate。　　He　and　she　mount　their　bicycles；　being　careful；　of
course；　that　such　are　of　the　right　make。　　After　that　they　have
nothing　to　think　about　but　the　old　sweet　tale。　　Down　shady　lanes；
through　busy　towns　on　market　days；　merrily　roll　the　wheels　of　the
〃Bermondsey　Company's　Bottom　Bracket　Britain's　Best；〃　or　of　the
〃Camberwell　Company's　Jointless　Eureka。〃　　They　need　no　pedalling；
they　require　no　guiding。　　Give　them　their　heads；　and　tell　them　what
time　you　want　to　get　home；　and　that　is　all　they　ask。　　While　Edwin
leans　from　his　saddle　to　whisper　the　dear　old　nothings　in
Angelina's　ear；　while　Angelina's　face；　to　hide　its　blushes；　is
turned　towards　the　horizon　at　the　back；　the　magic　bicycles　pursue
their　even　course。

And　the　sun　is　always　shining　and　the　roads　are　always　dry。　　No
stern　parent　rides　behind；　no　interfering　aunt　beside；　no　demon
small　boy　brother　is　peeping　round　the　corner；　there　never　comes　a
skid。　　Ah　me！　　Why　were　there　no　〃Britain's　Best〃　nor　〃Camberwell
Eurekas〃　to　be　hired　when　WE　were　young？

Or　maybe　the　〃Britain's　Best〃　or　the　〃Camberwell　Eureka〃　stands
leaning　against　a　gate；　maybe　it　is　tired。　　It　has　worked　hard　all
the　afternoon；　carrying　these　young　people。　　Mercifully　minded；
they　have　dismounted；　to　give　the　machine　a　rest。　　They　sit　upon
the　grass　beneath　the　shade　of　graceful　boughs；　it　is　long　and　dry
grass。　　A　stream　flows　by　their　feet。　　All　is　rest　and　peace。

That　is　ever　the　idea　the　cycle　poster　artist　sets　himself　to
conveyrest　and　peace。

But　I　am　wrong　in　saying　that　no　cyclist；　according　to　the　poster；
ever　works。　　Now　I　come　to　reflect；　I　have　seen　posters
representing　gentlemen　on　cycles　working　very　hardover…working
themselves；　one　might　almost　say。　　They　are　thin　and　haggard　with
the　toil；　the　perspiration　stands　upon　their　brow　in　beads；　you
feel　that　if　there　is　another　hill　beyond　the　poster　they　must
either　get　off　or　die。　　But　this　is　the　result　of　their　own　folly。
This　happens　because　they　will　persist　in　riding　a　machine　of　an
inferior　make。　　Were　they　riding　a　〃Putney　Popular〃　or　〃Battersea
Bounder；〃　such　as　the　sensible　young　man　in　the　centre　of　the
poster　rides；　then　all　this　unnecessary　labour　would　be　saved　to
them。　　Then　all　required　of　them　would　be；　as　in　gratitude　bound；
to　look　happy；　perhaps；　occasionally　to　back…pedal　a　little　when
the　machine　in　its　youthful　buoyancy　loses　its　head