when he made one desperate dash to get away but in four strokes of the pedals was level with him, and looking around with a smile (rather sarcastic I’m afraid,) the last I saw of Bill was when he collapsed into the bank at the side of the road. I thought his friends would soon be up the hill so didn’t trouble about him.

The next Sunday after this I was out about twenty miles from home, and was enjoying the scene from the top of a gate, when I noticed three men coming up the slope at a fair pace, with heads over the handlebars. When they got near, I recognised our friend Bill of the ginger hair in front, but it was the second man who recognised me. I smiled and heard him say to Bill “There’s the chap who put it through you last Sunday Bill”. Bill looked over with a startled look, and flushed, but said nothing. I may say these three men avoided me ever after.