"Allen, Grant - Miss Cayley's Adventures 03 - The Adenture of the Inquisitive American" - читать интересную книгу автора (Allen Grant)well in its oil-bath at its half-way gearing. I rode for
dear life. At sixteen miles, Lorsbach; at eighteen, Eppstein, the road still rising. 'How far ahead the last man?' 'Just round the corner, Fraulein!' I put on a little steam. Sure enough, round the corner I caught sight of his back. With a spurt, I passed him--a dust-covered soul, very hot and uncomfortable. He had not kept his wind; I flew past him like a whirlwind. But, oh how sultry hot in that sweltering, close valley! A pretty little town, Eppstein, with its mediaeval castle perched high on a craggy rock. I owed it some gratitude, I felt, as I left it behind, for 'twas here that I came up with the tail-end of my opponents. That one victory cheered me. So far, our route had lain along the well-made but dusty high road in the steaming valley; at Nieder-Josbach, two miles on, we quitted the road abruptly, by the course marked out for us, and turned up a mountain path, only wide enough for two cycles abreast--a path that clambered towards the higher slopes of the Taunus That was arranged on purpose--for this was no fair-weather show, but a practical trial for military bicycles, under the conditions they might meet with in actual warfare. It was rugged riding: black walls of pine rose steep on either from the first; the steeper the better. By the time I had reached Ober-Josbach, nestling high among larch-woods, I had distanced all but two of my opponents. It was cooler now, too. As I passed the hamlet my cry altered. 'How far ahead the first man?' 'Two minutes, Fraulein.' 'A civilian?' 'No, no; a Prussian officer.' The Herr Lieutenant led, then. For Old England's sake, I felt I must beat him. The steepest slope of all lay in the next two miles. If I were going to win I must pass these two there, for my advantage lay all in the climb; if it came to coasting, the weight scored a point in their favour. Bump, crash, jolt! I pedalled away like a machine; the Manitou sobbed; my ankles flew round so that I scarcely felt them. But the road was rough and scarred with waterways--ruts |
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