Bikey the Skicycle and Other Tales of Jimmieboy

by John Kendrick Bangs

  "Bikey, what's that ahead? Looks like the side of a great gold cheese."

  "That," Bikey answered, "is exactly what you think it is. It's the ringof Saturn, and, as the saying goes, for biking Saturn is quite thecheese. In two minutes we'll be there."

  And in two minutes they were there. In less, in fact, for hardly eightseconds had passed before a great, blinding light caused Jimmieboy toclose his eyes, and when he had opened them again he and Bikey werespeeding along a most beautiful road, paved with gold.

  "I thought so," said Bikey, "we're on the ring. And isn't it smooth?"

  "It's like riding on glass," said Jimmieboy. And then they stoppedshort.

  A peculiar looking creature had stopped them. It was a creature with aface not unlike that of a man, and a body like a man's, but instead oflegs it had wheels like a bicycle. If you can imagine a Centaur with abody like a bicycle instead of a horse you will have a perfect mentalpicture of this strange creature.

  "Excuse me," said the stranger, "but we have to be very particular here.Where do you come from?"

  "Earth," said Bikey.

  "All right," said the stranger. "Move on, I'm a Saturn policeman and somany wheelmen from the Sun and the Moon and Jupiter have causeddisturbances of late that we have had to forbid them coming. You are theonly Earth people who have been here, and of course are not included inour rules, but I will have to go along with you to see that you do notbreak any of them."

  "We're very glad to meet you," said Bikey, "and if you'll tell us yourrules we will be very glad to obey them."

  "Well," said the creature with wheels instead of legs, "the first ruleis that nobody shall ride a wheel standing on his head. There was aperson over here from Mars last week who actually put his head in thesaddle and wheeled his pedals with his hands."

  "How utterly absurd!" said Jimmieboy.

  "Wasn't it?" said the Saturnian; "and my! how mad he got when Iinterfered--asked whether this was a free country and if anybody hadrights, and all sorts of stuff like that. Now there's another rule wehave, and that is that coasting backward cannot be permitted. We used toallow that until a man from Jupiter ran slap bang into another man wholived at the extreme end of the handle of the Great Dipper, who wascoasting backward from the other direction. They came together so hardthat we couldn't get 'em apart, and we have had to keep 'em here eversince. They can't be separated, and the Dipper man won't go to Jupiter,and the Jupiter man won't go to Dipperville--consequently they stayhere. They're a fearful nuisance, and it all came from coastingbackward."

  "It's a very good rule," said Jimmieboy, "but in our world I don't thinkwe'd need a rule like that, because, while our bicycle riders do lots ofqueer things, I don't think they'd do that."

  "I hope not," said the Saturnian, "because there isn't any use in it,any more than in that other trick our visiting bicyclists try to playhere. They take those bicycles built for two, you know, and have whatthey call tugs of war with 'em. One fellow takes the hind wheel and theother the front wheel, and each begins to work for all he is worth topull the other along. We had to stop that, too, because the last timethey did it the men were so strong that the bar was pulled apart andboth tuggers went flying off on one wheel so fast that they have nevermanaged to get back--not that we want them back, but that we don't wantpeople to set bicycling down as a dangerous sport. It means so much tous. We get all our money from our big ring here; bicyclists come fromall parts of the universe to ride around it, and as they pay for theprivilege why we get millions of dollars a year, which is divided upamong the people. Consequence is, nobody has to do any work and we areall happy. You can see for yourself that it would be very bad for us ifpeople gave it up as dangerous."

  "Very true," said Bikey, "and now we know the rules I suppose we can goahead."

  "Yes," said the policeman, "only you must go to the Captain's office andget a permit. It'll cost you $2,000 for one season."

  "Two thousand dollars?" echoed Jimmieboy, aghast.

  "That's what I said," said the policeman.

  "But," said Jimmieboy, ruefully, "I haven't got more than five centswith me."

  "Then," said the policeman, "you can get a permit for five cents'worth--that's one-forty thousandth part of a season."

  "And how long is a season?" asked Jimmieboy.

  "Forty thousand years," said the policeman. "You can ride a year forfive cents."

  Bikey laughed.

  "That'll be long enough," he said. "And where can I find the Captain?"

  "I'm him," said the Saturnian. "Give me the five cents and it will beall right."

  So Jimmieboy handed over his nickel, and in a moment he and Bikey werespeeding along over a beautiful golden road so wide that he could notsee the other side of it, and stretching on and on to the fore forthousands of miles.

  III

  _A SUDDEN STOP AT THE TYRED INN_

  "This is a great place," said Bikey as they sped along. "I've coasted onpretty much every kind of coasting thing there is, and I think I neverstruck anything like this before. It beats the North Pole all hollow."

  "You never coasted on the North Pole, did you?" queried Jimmieboy.

  "Oh, didn't I just!" laughed Bikey. "It's made of ice, that North Poleis, and it's so slippery that you can even slide up it--that's awfulslippery, when you come to think of it--and as for coming down, well,you'd almost think you were falling off a roof."

  "But, wasn't it dangerous?" asked Jimmieboy.

  "Not at all," laughed Bikey. "Sliding up you run into the air, and thatisn't very hard, and coming down you land in a great snow bank--but thisplace here is much pleasanter, because it's warmer, and you don't haveto exert yourself. That's the great thing about this track. We aren'tgoing at all, though we seem to be--it's the track that makes my wheelsgo round. It's just a-whizzing, this track is, but we are standingperfectly still. If you should step off on to the road you'd whizz backout of sight in two seconds."

  "Well, I won't step off, then," said Jimmieboy a little fearfully; "Idon't want to be left up here all by myself."

  Silently they went on for at least five minutes, when what should theysee before them but a great stone wall, built solidly across the road.

  "Hi!" cried Bikey. "Put on the brake--hurry up."

  "There isn't one," shrieked Jimmieboy. "I--b--bub--busted it on the lawnmower the day of the accident."

  "Back pedal then--back pedal," roared Bikey.

  "C--can't gug--get my feet on 'em, they're going so fast," criedJimmieboy.

  "Then p--pup--punk--puncture my tire--take a nail or a pin oranything--or we'll be dashed to pieces."

  "Huh! haven't gug--got a nail or a pup--pin or anything," weptJimmieboy.

  "Then we are lost," said Bikey; but just then his tires puncturedthemselves and they came to a full stop two feet from the stone wall anddirectly in front of a little hotel, from the front door of which swunga bright red sign on which was the following inscription:--

  THE TYRED INN FOR THE TIRED OUT.

  "My!" ejaculated Bikey as he and Jimmieboy tumbled in a heap before theinn. "That was the narrowest escape I ever had. If we hadn't stoppedwe'd have been smashed all to bits--leastways I would have--you mighthave cleared the wall all right."

  "Good morning, Biklemen," said a fat, pudgy little old fellow, appearingin the doorway of the inn and bowing profoundly.

  "What's that you say?" asked Bikey looking up. "I didn't catch that lastword."

  "Biklemen," repeated the fat little fellow. "It's a word I inventedmyself to save time and it signifies gentlemen who ride bicycles.Instead of saying 'good morning, gentlemen who ride bicycles,' I say'good morning, biklemen, is there anything I can do for you?'"

  "Well, I should say there was," retorted Bikey. "Just look at my tires,will you? There are twenty-six punctures in the front one and eighteenin the hind one. I should think you'd have better sense than to sprinklethe road with tacks in this way."

  "Why, what an ungrateful creature you are," cried the landlord
of theTyred Inn, for that was who the pudgy little old fellow was. "If ithadn't been for those tacks I'd like to know where you'd be at thismoment. You'd have smashed into that stone wall and busted yourself andyour rider all to pieces."

  "That's so, Bikey," said Jimmieboy. "Those tacks saved our lives."

  "Of course they did," said the landlord. "And even if you had a right togrowl about 'em, you haven't any right to growl at me because thegovernment compels me to keep that part of the road sprinkled with 'em."

  "Really?" asked Bikey. "Queer law that, isn't it?"

  "I don't see why you think that," replied the landlord. "Is it a queerlaw which results in the saving of people's lives?"

  "No; but the way to save people's lives would be to remove that stonewall," said Bikey. "And that's the thing that makes this placedangerous."

  "I don't like to be impolite to biklemen," said the landlord, "but Imust say that you don't know what you are talking about. Do you supposeI am in business for fun?"

  "I don't see what that has to do with it," said Bikey, ruefullyregarding his tires, which looked for all the world like porous plasterswould look if they were sold by the yard.

  "Well, I'll show you in ten seconds," said the landlord. "Do you seethis inn? I presume you do, though there seems to be so little that yousee that I have my doubts. Well, this inn is run, not because I thinkit's a game I'm playing, but because I'm after money. Now, this innwouldn't earn a cent of money if biklemen didn't stop here. See that?"

  "Yes," said Bikey. "That's plain enough, but that doesn't account forthe tacks or the stone wall."

  "Yes, it does, too," retorted the landlord. "I ran this inn two yearsbefore that stone wall was built, and I paid the government $500 a weekfor being allowed to do it, but nobody ever stopped. Every bikleman inthe universe went coasting by here and never a one stopped in, so Inever got a cent and was paying $26,000 a year to the government intothe bargain. Of course I complained to the Secretary of the Interior,and he just laughed me off; said it wasn't his fault; that I ought todo something myself to make 'em stop, and that is how I came to buildthe stone wall. They've got to stop now. See that?"

  "Yes," said Bikey, "I see. And did you begin to make money?"

  "Well, rather," said the landlord. "The first day after that was built alot of biklemen from the Moon came over here and they ran plumb intothat wall. Five out of eight broke their legs, two broke their arms andone of 'em got off with a cracked nose, but every one of 'em had to stayhere two months at $10 a day apiece, and, of course, their families hadto visit 'em, and they paid from $5 to $8 apiece, and then I charged 'emall for medical services, and altogether things began to look up. Icleared $7 a week steady. But they were a mean crowd. In spite of allthe good treatment they got, as soon as they got well they made acomplaint against that wall, said it was an outrage, and the governmentsaid it must come down.

  "'All right,' said I to the Secretary. 'But if that wall comes down Igo out of the hotel business, and you can whistle for your $500 a week.'He didn't like that a bit, the Secretary didn't, because his salarydepended on the money I paid. Being Secretary of the Interior he got acommission on hotel taxes, and as mine was the only hotel in Saturn,shutting it up meant that he was ruined."

  "You had him there," laughed Bikey.

  "I rather guess so," smiled the landlord, "and he knew it. Still I waseasy with him. I didn't want to have people making complaints all thetime, so I said that while the stone wall had come to stay, I'd pave thestreet for two hundred yards in front of it with cat teasers."

  "What?" cried Jimmieboy.

  "Cat teasers," said the landlord. "Didn't you ever hear of cat teasers?They're small square pieces of zinc with prickers on 'em. City peoplegenerally put 'em on top of their back yard fences so that Patticats"----

  "Excuse me," asked Bikey. "What cats?"

  "Patti cats and De Reszke cats--the kind that sing, you know," explainedthe landlord. "They put 'em on their back yard fences so that theseoperatic felines would not be able to sit down there and sing and keepthem awake all night; but the scheme didn't work. I had an idea that thecat teasers would puncture the bicycle wheels in time to stop 'em, andthey did, but they interfered with people on foot as well, and afterthese people got lockjaw from puncturing their feet on my pavement Itook it up and suggested sprinkling the roadway twice a day with tacks.This satisfied the Secretary, and a law was passed compelling me to doit, and I do. How it works you have seen for yourselves."

  "That's true," said Bikey, ruefully.

  "Well, it saved me," said Jimmieboy.

  "But how are we ever to get home?" asked Bikey.

  "Oh, as for that," returned the landlord, "gather yourselves togetherand come inside. I think I can fix you out very shortly, and it won'tcost you more than $800."

  "Come on, Bikey," said Jimmieboy, "I'd sort of like to see the inside ofthis house, anyhow."

  "I haven't got any $800," snapped Bikey.

  "Oh, never mind about that," laughed the landlord. "I run a bankingbusiness here, too. I'll lend you all you want. Come in."

  And so they went into the "Tyred Inn for the Tired Out," and a mostremarkable place they found it to be.

  IV

  _THE TYRED INN_

  The entrance to the Tyred Inn and the parlors and rooms of thatextraordinary place were quite like those of any other roadside hotel,but the method of conducting it and the singular things that were to befound in it made Jimmieboy's brief stay there an experience long to beremembered. The bicycle idea was carried out in everything. If youwanted a bell boy you had to ring a bicycle bell. In place of anelevator or staircase they had a spiral pathway running up from thecentre of the hall to the roof, upon which guests could either walk orride, an electric bicycle built for two being provided for those whodid not care to walk up, the elevator boy sitting on the front seat andmanaging the apparatus.

  From the parlor there came the most beautiful strains of music, as froma fine brass and string orchestra, all of which was managed by themerest bit of a midget sitting astride of a safety and working thepedals, which in turn worked the great musical instrument that occupiedthe whole of the lower end of the room. Upon the walls were all sorts ofcurious pictures, and for a decoration of the ceiling there wereautomatic frescoes presenting a constantly moving bicycle scene. Forinstance, instead of a series of groups of rosebuds and cupids, therewere about a hundred little plaster wheelmen racing about the edge ofthe ceiling, and every once in a while one of these would take a header,flying immediately back to his saddle again, however, and continuing onhis way until the clockwork by which the frescoes were run forced himto take the header all over again. On and around they raced incessantly,and so varied were the things that they did that it did not seem toJimmieboy as if he could remember half of them in case he should everwant to tell his father or his brothers about it afterward.

  "That's a fine ceiling, isn't it?" asked the landlord, with a grin, asJimmieboy gazed overhead, his mouth wide open in wonderment.

  "I should say so," replied the boy, delightedly. "I wish I could have aceiling like that in my room."

  "Nonsense," said Bikey. "You'd soon get tired of it. It wouldn't takelong for a ceiling like that to drive a man crazy."

  "That's so," put in the landlord. "But there are lots of things thatwould drive a man crazy that wouldn't drive a boy crazy--like trumpetsand whistles. When it comes to things like that, boys are much strongerthan men. I've known a boy of five to stand banging on a drum for sevenhours, when his father couldn't stand it for seven minutes. Nobody needgo crazy over my bicycle ceiling though," continued the landlord. "Ijust press a button and it's all over--see?"

  As the little man spoke he pressed a button on the side wall, andinstantly the fresco bicycles stopped moving, the little plasterwheelmen jumped off and threw themselves down upon the soft grassyborders of the painted roadside and all was still. Then the landlordpressed another button and they jumped up, mounted again and the racebegan once more.

>   "That's my own invention," said the landlord, "and it's a very popularfeature of my house. It brings children here. When the mothers of thisneighborhood want to go off wheeling, and there's nobody to look afterthe children, they bring them here and leave them with me, and they'reas good as pie as long as that ceiling goes. That's another of my waysof making money. I charge fifty cents an hour for letting the youngstersin here, and it's a very poor sort of a day that I don't clear $40 on mykid account."

  "I should think so," said Jimmieboy in a superior sort of way. "I thinkthat if I were a child I should like to spend a day here myself."

  The landlord looked at Jimmieboy with an amused expression.

  "Say, Mr. Bike," he whispered to Bikey. "What does he think he is, atelegraph pole? He said if he was a child. Isn't he a child?"

  "Yes," laughed Bikey, "but he is a little old for his age, you know. Hadlots of experience."

  "Ha--I see," said the landlord. Then he turned to Jimmieboy again andsaid:--

  "Now, Mr. Man, if you'll accompany me up stairs I'll show you mypantry."

  "Good," said Jimmieboy. "I must say I'm pretty hungry, and a pantry isjust the sort of thing I'd like to see."

  Mounting the "bikevator," as the printed sign over it called thearrangement that took guests to the upper floors, the party was soontransferred to the landing above. The landlord, after assistingJimmieboy to dismount, walked to the end of a long corridor and, takinga bunch of keys from his pocket, unlocked and opened a little door.