Produced by Annie R. McGuire
[Illustration: HARPER'S ROUND TABLE]
Copyright, 1896, by HARPER & BROTHERS. All Rights Reserved.
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PUBLISHED WEEKLY. NEW YORK, TUESDAY, MARCH 24, 1896. FIVE CENTS A COPY.
VOL. XVII.--NO. 856. TWO DOLLARS A YEAR.
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[Illustration]
THE BATTLE OF EASTER MONDAY.
BY W. G. VAN TASSEL SUTPHEN.
Fred March had an idea. It was even a brilliant idea, and the longer he
pondered over it, the more certain he was that it was a practical one.
"And that, after all, is the important point," as Jack Howard had sagely
observed, after being taken into Fred's confidence. Here it is as it
finally resolved itself into tangible form.
"The Twelfth Regiment of the Transylvania State National Guard are to
hold a sham fight on Easter Monday. There has been a great deal of talk
about the use of the bicycle in war, and here is a chance to test the
theories. Let us organize the boys into a bicycle corps, and offer our
services to your father, Colonel Howard, who commands the regiment."
Jack reflected, soberly, "How could we be of any use?"
"We could be organized as a body of mounted riflemen, and also do scout
and staff service. The fight is going to be somewhere on the Quantico
golf course, and the grass on the links is short and smooth enough for
riding. Easter comes so late this year that the frost is out of the
ground already, and it isn't likely to rain before Monday. And then
there are the roads in all directions."
"How many fellows can we muster?"
"Well, you know that all the boys from boarding-school are at home for
the Easter holidays, and I've counted up sixty-five single wheels and
three tandems; then we have the motor cycle, the 'Happy Thought,' and
the people at the Driving Park have promised to lend me the 'quad' that
they have there for pacing the circuit riders--an available force
altogether of seventy machines and seventy-seven men."
Jack became enthusiastic. "Let's go down to the armory and propose it to
my father," he said, briefly.
Colonel Howard was mildly amused when the proposition was first broached
to him, but as the boys proceeded to explain the practical details of
the plan he grew interested.
"There may be something in it," he said, finally, "and I'll think it
over."
Two days later Colonel Howard sent for Fred and Jack, and informed them
that their idea had been favorably considered, and that the services of
the bicycle corps would be accepted.
"I have arranged," said Colonel Howard, "that the boys on the single
wheels and two of the tandems shall be armed with short repeating
carbines, and shall act as mounted riflemen, under command of Fred
March. I have a friend in the gun-factory at Decatur, and he has
promised to lend me two rapid-fire guns, which I will have mounted on
the third tandem and on the 'Happy Thought.' Jack will take command of
the 'quad,' and will act as a member of my personal staff. You will
report with your men at the armory Monday morning at nine o'clock
sharp."
The idea had actually materialized, and Fred was naturally pleased to
think that his suggestion was to be taken up in earnest. But he was even
more anxious that the experiment should be a success and that the
military value of the bicycle should be demonstrated.
Now sham fights are generally carried on after a carefully prepared
plan, every movement being carefully thought out beforehand, even to the
strategy. But on this occasion it had been proposed that an actual
problem should be placed before the two commanders, and that they should
be allowed to work it out in their own way. Here, then, was a chance for
real strategy, and, other things being equal, brains must win. Of
course, as only blank cartridges are used, umpires must be appointed to
determine the practical results of the various movements, and to finally
award the victory to the side which in their judgment has fairly won it.
The field of operations had been decided upon, and Saturday afternoon
Fred and Jack jumped on the "Happy Thought" and went down to have a look
at it.
The map on the opposite page gives a good idea of the military features
of the battle-ground, and if you study it carefully, you will easily
understand the conditions of the problem.
[Illustration: PLAN OF THE BATTLE-FIELD.]
It is supposed that Colonel Howard with a force of two hundred and fifty
men, together with an auxiliary bicycle corps of mounted riflemen,
including two machine-guns, are intrenched upon the wooded ridge at the
left and locally known as the "Cardinal's Nob." This ridge is the key to
the country lying behind it, and must consequently be defended at all
hazards. The position is naturally strong, as its steep sides are
inaccessible except at the three points marked by the numerals 1, 2, and
3. The open space in front is part of the Quantico golf course, and a
putting-green occupies the little knoll at 8. The green is defended by
an earth bunker, and from its military appearance it is known to the
golfers as "Sebastopol." In the woods immediately behind "Sebastopol"
the forces of the enemy, under command of Lieutenant-Colonel Camp, are
supposed to be concealed. They number four hundred and fifty, with a
battery of two field-pieces, and their object is to obtain possession of
the "Cardinal's Nob." It is to be understood that the ground south of
the "Cardinal's Nob" and separated from it by "Deadman's Hollow," is
practically unfitted for military occupation, and consequently of no
strategic importance to either side. The other features of the map
explain themselves.
It is furthermore arranged that the two parties shall leave the armory
at Fairacre at ten o'clock precisely, and proceed by separate routes to
their respective positions. The battle will begin theoretically at
eleven o'clock, and will continue until three in the afternoon unless
decided earlier.
With these points carefully fixed in mind the two boys made a careful
survey of the ground. The "Happy Thought" moved swiftly and easily over
the short, firm grass of the golf course, and it was evident that the
bicycles would have no difficulty in operating in the open. But how
would they ever have a chance to do so with the enemy under cover in the
woods? Exposure would mean destruction, and, moreover, they could expect
no support from the main body under Colonel Howard. At all risks the
"Cardinal's Nob" must be held, and, it was clear that Colonel Howard
would act strictly on the defensive. The bicycle corps, it is true,
could assist in the defence as an unmounted body, but that was not what
Fred wanted. Could not the wheelmen be used as an independent force
without materially weakening the defence? Of course the "Cardinal's Nob"
must be held, but might it not be strategy to both repel the assault and
destroy the attacking force?
"And I think it is possible," thought Fred to himself as the "Happy
Thought" rolled slowly back to Fairacre.
Easter Monday dawned clear and warm. The armory was a busy place at nine
o'clock, and every effective man was present to answer to his name.
Fred's force was complete just as he had counted it up, and the
machine-guns, mounted on the "Happy Thought" and Alec Jordan's tandem,
looked particularly wicked and fit for work. The ammunition was served
out, the general orders read, and at ten o'clock the two forces took up
the march. Fred on the front seat of the "Happy Thought," and with forty
wheelmen armed with repeating carbines, headed the line, and the rest of
the bicycle corps, under command of Acting-Lieutenant Alec Jordan,
formed the rear-guard.
The "Cardinal's Nob" was reached at half past ten, and Colonel Howard
summoned a council of war. There was still half an hour before
hostilities would commence, and it was necessary to consider carefully
Colonel Camp's probable line of attack, and to devise an effective
checkmate.
Colonel Howard briefly outlined the situation as follows:
1. The "Blacks," or Colonel Camp's force, will occupy "Sebastopol" with
their artillery, and a false demonstration will be made against the
point 1.
2. A strong flanking force will be sent around by way of the Swamp Road
(4) to make an attack in the rear of "White" at the bridge (3).
3. At the moment that the attack on "White's" rear begins, "Black's"
main force, under cover of the artillery, will abandon the demonstration
against 1, and endeavor to carry the "Cardinal's Nob" by a charge across
the open and a general assault at 2, the most practicable scaling-point.
"We may therefore expect, gentlemen," concluded Colonel Howard, "a
pretty hot corner at the point 2, and a simultaneous attack at the bridge
(3), which, if successful, will place us between two fires. Obviously we
must, above all things, protect our rear. Captain Jones will therefore
take one hundred men and occupy a position near the bridge (3), to meet
and, if possible, ambuscade the expected flanking force. As for the
bicycle corps--"
It was Fred's chance, and he improved it. Colonel Howard listened
attentively to what he had to say, and turned to his staff for their
opinion. The suggestion was a daring one, for it involved a separation
of forces in the face of an enemy numerically superior, but it looked
feasible, and if there was no hitch it meant defeat to the "Blacks."
There was not much time for deliberation, and Colonel Howard acted
quickly.
"Your suggestion is accepted, Captain March," said Colonel Howard, "and
you will therefore take your corps, including the machine-guns, and
occupy the wooded knoll shown on the map at 6. Corporal Wood, with two
men, is detailed as signal officer, and will take up a position at the
point marked 7. It is expected that Captain Jones will be able to hold
'Black's' flanking force at the bridge (3) in check, but to draw the
enemy into the open it will be necessary that we should make a false
demonstration in our own rear. If 'Black' takes the bait the bicycle
corps will be brought up by signal to the point 7, and finally ordered
forward at the proper moment to take 'Black' in the rear, and, if
possible, capture the battery. Captain March will remain in strict
concealment at 6, and will not advance under any consideration until the
signal is given from 7 by the waving of a white flag. Is that clear,
gentlemen? It is just eleven o'clock," concluded Colonel Howard,
shutting his watch with a snap, "and the game of war is on. Lieutenant
Mason, you will determine at once the exact whereabouts and disposition
of the enemy's force. Gentlemen, to your posts."
Ten minutes later Fred, at the head of the bicycle corps, was spinning
rapidly along the wood road in the direction of the wooded knoll at 6.
It was all important that the movement should not be discovered by the
enemy, and the greatest care had to be taken in transporting the
bicycles down the hill and out upon the road. As Fred glanced back at
the shining silent line bowling swiftly along in column of twos, he felt
sure that they had been unobserved, and that success was certain.
But he had not reckoned upon the fact that Lieutenant Young of the
"Blacks" was a smart young officer who owned a particularly fine pair of
binocular glasses. Colonel Camp smiled grimly when Lieutenant Young
reported that the bicycle corps had left the "Cardinal's Nob," and were
proceeding southward, and that the point 7 had been occupied as a signal
station. It had been his original intention to carry out the very plan
of operations that Colonel Howard had outlined; but it was now necessary
to modify it. Colonel Camp decided upon the following plan:
As before, the artillery would occupy "Sebastopol," and a false
demonstration would be made against the point 1. But instead of a large,
a very small flanking force would be sent to the bridge (3), and they
would be instructed to deceive "White" as long as possible in regard to
their real number. In this manner forty "Blacks" might occupy the
attention of the hundred "Whites" detailed at 3, and therefore sixty of
the defenders would virtually be kept out of the main action.
Secondly, a squad of men under Lieutenant Young would be sent around
back of 6 with instructions to capture "White's" signal station at 7,
and another squad to ambuscade the wood road at the gate (5).
As Colonel Camp figured it out, it would then be impossible for Colonel
Howard to communicate with the bicycle corps either by signal or by a
messenger along the road, and with the bicyclers also out of the action,
the "Blacks" should be able with their main body of 400 men to carry the
"Cardinal's Nob" at 2, the defending force being now reduced to 150 men.
It would take just about an hour to capture the signal post and guard
the gate on the road, and the same length of time for the small flanking
force to engage the attention of "White's" rear guard. The instant that
the firing in "White's" rear announced that the skirmish at the bridge
(3) had commenced, the main assault at 2 would be made, and, if
everything went as Colonel Camp expected, it could not fail. It was
indeed a good plan, and reflected much credit upon the strategic ability
of the commander of the "Black" forces.
It was twelve o'clock, and nothing in particular had happened to change
the situation of affairs. "Black's" artillery had occupied "Sebastopol,"
and had opened a hot fire on the "Cardinal's Nob," but the "Whites,"
protected by their intrenchments, had suffered but little. The mythical
bullets from the "Black" sharpshooters in the edge of the woods were,
according to the plan, directed against 1, and one or two false sorties
had been made in that direction without result. Both commanders were
waiting for the real development of the struggle.
At ten minutes after twelve the signal officer on the "Nob" reported to
Colonel Howard that communication with the signal-station (7) had
suddenly been broken off. Colonel Howard looked grave, for he realized
at once that with the bicycle corps out of the action he could hardly
hope to defend the "Nob" against an attack at 2. There was but one thing
to be done, and that was to send a messenger by the wood road to order
up the bicycles to the signal-station at 7, with instructions to use
their own discretion in making any further advance.
A moment later Jack and his crew of three were pedalling down the wood
road on the "quad." Another message was despatched to Captain Jones at
the bridge (3), ordering him to send back every man whom he could
possibly spare to assist in repelling the expected assault. And then
Colonel Howard lit a fresh cigar and waited.
In the mean time Fred and his force had occupied the wooded knoll (6),
taking care to keep well under cover. The trees cut off their view of
the battle-field, but the signal-station at 7 was plainly visible, and
all they had to do was to wait for the waving of the white flag. But
would the signal ever come? Fred could hear the booming of Colonel
Camp's artillery and the sharp crackle of the rifle-firing. Could it be
possible that Colonel Howard had forgotten about them, and that the real
fight was already in progress? He was half inclined to steal forward
under cover of the woods and see what was going on. And then he
remembered that he was a soldier, whose first duty is to obey.
Nearly an hour had gone by, and the boys were beginning to feel the
nervous strain. They had examined the breech mechanism of their carbines
and counted over the cartridges in their belts a score of times, and
they were anxious for active service. A half-suppressed murmur arose.
"Silence in the ranks!" commanded Fred, sternly, as he gazed eagerly
over at the signal-station. It was odd, but certainly some kind of a
struggle was going on there. Could anything have gone wrong? "Steady!"
he said to himself. "Your business, Fred March, is to wait for that
white flag, and then we'll see who holds the trumps."
Ten, fifteen, twenty minutes more, and then--surely there was something
waving, and it was white. The signal! It was a queer kind of motion,
too; the signal-man was acting as though he had suddenly been afflicted
with St. Vitus's dance. But it must be the signal. What else could it
be?
"By column of fours!" shouted Fred, as he sprang to his saddle.
"Attention! Charge!" and as one man the bicycle corps swept down the
little hill and out upon the short grass of the golf course.
Fred remembered that his instructions were to regulate his advance by
the signal-flag; but surely that frantic waving could mean but one
thing, and that was to go on. A moment later and they had swept around
the point, and the battle-field was before them. And just in the nick of
time, for the "Blacks" were charging across the open, and were already
within fifty yards of the "Nob."
"Fire!" shrieked Captain Fred, and a destructive volley was poured in
upon the astonished "Blacks," while a cheer went up from the gallant
defenders on the "Nob."
The boys could all ride without their hands, and again and again the
rifles spoke as the line dashed on. Fred with a squad of twenty of the
fastest riders had already made good his position in the rear of
"Sebastopol," and before the bewildered artillerymen could turn to meet
them the battery had been captured and the guns silenced. The rest of
the corps, under command of Alec Jordan, had dismounted, and were firing
over their wheels into the broken masses of the "Blacks." In another
instant Fred had brought the machine-gun mounted on the "Happy Thought"
into action, and the "Blacks," huddled together at the entrance to
"Deadman's Hollow," were under three destructive fires.
It was only a question of five minutes, and Colonel Camp's force had
been pronounced annihilated by the umpires. The battle was over, and the
honors of war rested with Colonel Howard and his gallant "Whites."
Of course they fought the battle all over again at the armory that
night, and Lieutenant-Colonel Camp demanded an explanation.
"My dear fellow," said Colonel Howard, soothingly, "it was very clever
of you to capture my signal-station; but you forgot that it was possible
for me to send a messenger by the wood road."
"But I did think of that," retorted the defeated warrior. "The road was
ambuscaded by my men, and the 'quad' was stopped and captured at the
gate."
It was Colonel Howard's turn to look mystified. "How, then--" he began,
looking at Fred.
"But, indeed Colonel," said that young gentleman, eagerly, "I only
obeyed orders. I did get my signal."
"Lieutenant Young," said Colonel Camp, "you captured the signal-station
by my orders, and held it to the end. Have you any explanation to offer
of this extraordinary affair. And, by-the-way, what is the matter with
your face?"
Lieutenant Young blushed and stammered.
"Well, Colonel, if you must know--it--it was the hornets."
"Hornets!"
"You see, while we were waiting, one of the men undertook to explore an
old hornets' nest, and, the weather having been rather warm for the last
week, why--er--they--er--proceeded to resume business."
"Exactly," said Colonel Camp, grimly. "And I suppose you used your
handkerchief to protect yourself, and the boys mistook it for the
signal."
"Well, it was something white," said Fred, apologetically, "and it was
waving as though it meant business. I thought I'd better go on."
"You did exactly right," said Colonel Howard; "it was the turning-point
of the whole affair."
"That fellow Young ought to be court-martialled," growled the irate
Camp.
"Never mind, Camp," laughed Colonel Howard; "you out-generalled me
fairly enough, and the rest was simply the fortune of war. By-the-way,
what became of Jack and the 'quad'?"
Now it happened that there was an interesting answer to Colonel Howard's
query about this "quad"; but that is another story.
THE CARE OF A WHEEL.
BY DUDLEY D. F. PARKER.
It is astonishing, considering the number of riders of the wheel at
present, the comparatively small percentage that know really anything
about their "mounts." A visit to any bicycle repair-shop will
conclusively dispel all doubts as to the truth of this assertion. Here
you will find long lines of wheels awaiting repairs, some of the
damages, of course, being serious, but the majority are unruly valves,
punctures, and bearings out of adjustment. It is particularly noticeable
the number of wheels in which a slight knowledge of their construction
would have enabled the repairs to be made at home.
How frequently one sees a rider, wrench in hand, dubiously surveying his
wheel at arm's-length, now tightening a nut here or loosening one there,
in a vain endeavor to fix in this manner something that is out of order
and prevents his wheel from running properly! But beyond the fact that
something is wrong, he has not the slightest idea of the nature of the
trouble.
Or again, another enthusiast is deluging every visible chink in his
bicycle with oil, in the hopes of finding some mysterious squeak, the
location of which would be an easy matter if the position of the
different bearings were understood. It is conceded without exception by
all wheelmen that a fair knowledge of the construction of a wheel is
essential to its proper care.
[Illustration: SECTION OF BALL-BEARING.]
Perhaps the most important thing to be considered is the care of the
bearings. In the advanced stage which bicycle construction has reached
to-day there are a large number of ball-bearings in a machine--in fact,
there are balls wherever there is friction, however light. These
bearings should have careful adjustment. Perhaps a glance at the sketch
of a wheel bearing will make the construction clearer. Of course the
bearings of different makes of wheels vary, but the principle is the
same in all. The little steel balls are the only medium by which the
weight on the bearing is transmitted between the rim and the cone (hub
and axle). To have the bearing work properly and with least possible
friction, the cone must not be screwed in so tightly as to jam the balls
in the rim, or the wheel will run hard; at the same time it must not be
unscrewed so as to allow too much play of the balls, or the wheel will
"wobble." Most bearings have a flattening on the projection of the cone,
between the hub of the wheel and the fork, that can be caught by a
wrench, enabling the cones to be tightened or loosened by screwing this
one only. Some have a thumb-screw in place of the device mentioned, and
other makes adjust the cones by screwing the axle.
In the adjustment of a wheel's bearings, whether front or rear, a good
test to use against too tight a cone is to raise the wheel clear of the
ground, and, turning it so that the valve of the tire is on top or
nearly so, see if the weight of the valve will cause the wheel to rotate
so that the valve will describe an arc, like a pendulum, each swing
gradually diminishing in length. If the cone is properly adjusted, the
valve should swing back and forth for some time. Of course the rear
wheel will not swing as long as the front, the valve having to impart
motion to the sprocket and pedals. If the cones are too loose, by
gripping the wheel by the rim you will be able to slide it back and
forth on the axle. The most important bearings in the whole wheel are
those of the crank-axle. Here the whole strain of the propelling power
comes. The adjustment of these cones is on the same principle as those
of the wheels; the same test may be used as for the rear wheel. The two
bearings in the steering-head may be adjusted by screwing the cone of
the top one, and, of course, the wheel may be made hard steering or
easy, to suit the taste of the rider. This is not a matter of material
importance. The adjustment of the pedal bearings is not of so great
importance, but it should be seen that they run evenly and quietly, as
it is at this point that the propelling force is applied. This is
usually accomplished by tightening or loosening the outside cone, which
may be gotten at by removing the dust-cap.
Perhaps it would be as well to speak here about the quite frequent
mishaps of a broken ball in the bearings. As soon as one is found
broken, waste no time in removing it; a ball less will do no harm; but
if the wheel is ridden with a broken one, it will soon cut the cone and
rim all to pieces.
A word about oiling. Do not go to the excess of either too little or too
much oil. In the first case the cones and rim will wear more quickly and
the bearings run hard; and in the latter, the oil will gum, causing hard
running, or, if it does not do this, it will ooze out of the joint,
and, collecting the dust, will become gritty and mar it. The amount and
frequency of the oiling, of course, depend on the use of the bicycle.
For a wheel moderately used, a fair oiling once a week I should deem
amply sufficient. Most of the bearings have openings in which to apply
the oil, and the oil should not be applied at any other place than this.
In the case of the head-bearings, unscrewing the cone of the upper one
will expose it, and will permit the head to be raised so as to expose
the one on the crown for oiling. The pedals may be lubricated by
removing the dust-cap and applying the oil on the outside bearing,
tilting the machine so as it will run down to the inside one.
[Illustration: PARTS OF THE WHEEL.
A. Crank-axle. B. Front Sprocket. C. Crank. D. Barrel. E. Pedal. F.
Head. G. Upper Cone. H. Lower Cone. I. Handle-bars. J. Grips or Handles.
K. Front Hub and Axle. L. Handle-bar Clamp. M. Saddle. N. Saddle-post.
O. Saddle-post Clamp. P. Rear Sprocket. Q. Rear Hub and Axle. R. Chain.
S. Rear Fork. T. Tire. U. Rim. V. Valve. W. Front Forks. X. Crown.]
To have the bearings in "tip-top" condition, they should be cleaned
every month or six weeks. In cleaning them the cone should be taken out,
carefully wiped, the balls put in kerosene oil to remove all possible
grit, and the rim wiped clean of all remains of previous oilings. The
easiest ones to get at are those of the front wheel and pedals. In the
former case, all that is necessary is to undo the nuts and spring the
wheel out of the fork, unscrewing the movable cone, and taking out the
axle. In the pedals, remove the dust-caps and the outside cone, and slip
the pedal off. The rear wheel is a little more troublesome, the chain
having to be removed from the rear sprocket before the wheel can be
taken out. To remove the chain, unscrew the small screw-bolt that holds
two of the links together. The bearings in the head will also be a
little troublesome, having to remove the handle-bars and top cone, and
take out the front fork. The only remaining bearings to be spoken
of--those of the crank-axle--are in some respects the most important to
have clean, and at the same time the most difficult to get at, as it is
necessary to take off the cranks before the axle can be removed or the
bearings exposed. After the cranks are removed, the rest is usually an
easy matter.
[Illustration: METHODS OF FASTENING CRANKS TO CRANK-AXLES.]
To give any general rule for the cranks removal is impossible, as there
are so many manners in use for attaching them to the axle; but, however,
the way to remove the several prominent patterns might be useful. We
will select four of the general methods, and these will suffice to cover
most of the ground. These may be best understood from a study of the
accompanying sketches. First, the most common way of putting the cranks
on, with a key or pin (No. I). To remove these, unscrew the nut on the
pin and drive it out. This might be done at home, but as a rule the pins
are put in or become wedged in so tightly that it is frequently
advisable to have them driven out at a shop. In the absence of proper
punches, there is a great chance of badly mutilating the pin in removal.
The second general class is the clamp attachment. There are several
patterns in use, but the one described below is most commonly seen (No.
II). To free it from the axle the bolt is removed, and it is frequently
necessary to insert a wedge to spring the clamps free from it. In the
third class the crank fits in a continuation of the axle, usually
projecting a little, so as to permit locking with a nut (No. III).
Sometimes it passes a little to one side of the centre, and, again,
exactly through it. The fourth and last general class is where the axle
and cranks are made in two forgings, as shown by No. IV (sketch
represents a cross-section of barrel), the part shown being half, and
the two sections fitting together by teeth. These cranks are removed by
unscrewing in the opposite direction to which they revolve in the
propulsion of the machine.
[Illustration: DEVICES FOR TIGHTENING CHAIN BY MOVING REAR AXLE.]
The next part of the wheel we will turn our attention to is the
chain--the medium through which the motion is imparted from the
driving-gear to the rear sprocket. Frequently after a long ride on rough
roads, or perhaps a few days of usage, the chain will be found to have
slackened up considerably. There are many devices in use for taking up
this slack--all of them, however, working on the principle of moving the
rear axle back and forth, and being more or less improvements of a few
general patterns. In device "x" in the sketch, after loosening the nut,
the axle is moved backward or forward by turning the screw in the proper
direction. If it is desired to move the axle back in "y" the screw is
tightened, or if it is desirable to move it forward (nearer the cranks),
the screw is unscrewed, and the axle pushed forward by gentle taps with
a wrench. In "z" the whole bar swings with the axle. This adjustment is
tightened or loosened in the same manner as the preceding one, with the
exception that the nut on the bolt holding the upper end of the bars has
to be loosened a trifle. In "w" the axle is adjusted without the aid of
a screw. When in the right place, it is held by the tightening of the
nuts, teeth in the washer engaging others around the edge of the slot.
No part of the machine collects the dirt more quickly than the chain, it
being found liberally sprinkled with grit after every ride. As long as
it runs smoothly and quietly it does no harm, though when it gets rather
thick it would be best to wipe it lightly with a rag or a stiff brush.
When a chain is dry or very dirty it shows a tendency to kink, at the
same time producing a rattling noise, joined with sharp snappings. When
in this condition, it should have a thorough cleaning. First wipe with a
rag, and then remove the chain from the sprockets; put it in kerosene
oil to soak, wiping dry with a rag. The only troublesome part of the
cleaning operation will be to replace the chain. This is effected by
passing one of the ends of it over the rear sprocket, joining them with
the screw-bolt, then, catching some of the links on the top teeth of the
front sprocket, revolve it, and this will spring the chain on.
The mentioning of a "dry" chain brings up the subject of chain
lubricants. There are a great many on the market, and as to their
relative values riders differ in opinion. Two facts are clear, however.
If a lubricant is too liquid it collects grit very quickly; on the other
hand, if too dry, it does not work in the joints of the chain properly.
Oil is obviously, from the above, very bad, and should only be used on
the road when a chain unexpectedly runs dry or hard. The prominent
constituent of most lubricants is graphite, the different makes varying
usually in the amount of oil or other dissolving agent contained. Some
wheelmen recommend powdered graphite alone, but my experience has found
a mixture of graphite and oil having about the constituency of vaseline
to be very satisfactory. Whatever the lubricant, they should all be
applied in the same manner. Rest the step of the bicycle on a box or
anything, so that the rear wheel may revolve freely, and apply lubricant
rather sparingly; too much will only serve to collect dirt. Spin the
wheel rapidly for a minute so as to permit it to work into the joints,
and then, slowly revolving, wipe the waste off the top of the chain.
We have now reached in our discussion of the bicycle a part just as
essential to the running ability as anything previously mentioned--the
tires. On account of the wear and tear upon the tires, from one cause or
another, they require much care. It is the tires that take up the jolts
from the inequalities of the road, and upon their proper degree of
inflation depends the easy running of the wheel. Quite a study may be
made of this, the pressure varying for the different uses the wheel is
to be put to. Without exception the rear tire should be harder than the
front; if the latter is more tightly inflated than need be, it creates
unnecessary jarring, which manifests itself in a numbing of the wrists.
For riding over city pavements the softer the tires, without endangering
the rims, the less jolting; but on good roads hard tires are best, as
there is less friction, due to a smaller surface presented to the
ground. From the inflation we will turn to the valve, the most important
part of the tire. This is frequently a source of much annoyance from
leakage. Whenever in doubt as to the valve's effectiveness, immerse it
in water, and the air-bubbles will soon show the size and location of a
leak, if there is one.
[Illustration: TIRE VALVE.]
In all experiences with pneumatic tires you will find water the greatest
enemy of leaks, and in all cases where one is of sufficient size to be
an annoyance, water will surely locate it. The weak point in most valves
seems to lie in the plunger that closes the opening through which the
air is admitted. Most valves work on the principle explained in the
sketch. When the air is forced in, the plunger A is pushed down,
admitting the air into D, and so into the tire; and when the downward
stroke of the pump ceases, the spring B, assisted by the pressure of the
air in the tire, is supposed to push A tightly up against the partition
E, and so close the opening. Right here the trouble occurs. For various
reasons the spring sometimes does not push the plunger up, and if the
pressure is not sufficient to do it, when the pump is removed the air
forced in with so much labor blows out in a few seconds. In this case,
first drop a little benzine in, as perhaps the valve may be dirty or
stuck in some manner, and if this has not the desired effect, it will be
necessary to remove the valve. The most common cause of the above
annoyance is the spring becoming too much compressed, this being
remedied by removing and stretching a little. Frequently the plunger
becomes jammed against E, and in pushing it in it disappears entirely
within the body of the valve. Here also it is often necessary to take
the valve apart.
PUNCTURE.--That is a word that makes every wheelman wince. A little hole
in the tire makes the bicycle, that a few seconds ago was a means of
travelling, a useless encumbrance. But in this case it does not always
follow that it is an encumbrance, for if a pocket repair kit is carried,
or the rider can make the best use of things at his disposal, some kind
of stoppage of the escape of wind can frequently be accomplished. The
single tube, or "hose-pipe," is the easiest to patch up on the road. The
leakage can usually be stopped by cementing a piece of rubber over the
puncture and binding it on securely with tire tape. Perhaps if the rider
is skilled he may effect a permanent repair by plugging it. Now a hint
to the rider who goes on the road with only a wrench in his pocket; and
if he is given to the chewing-gum habit, it may be of use. A very novel
and effective repair for a single-tube tire may be made by a little
chewing-gum and some bandages. After locating the opening, apply some
freshly chewed gum and work it in, leaving a fair-sized piece on the
tire, and binding it with a handkerchief if nothing better offers.
Sometimes a difficult part of a puncture on the road is its location.
After examining the tire and noting the likely places, apply saliva at
these spots, and when the right one is found, bubbles will be noticed.
The permanent repair of a double-tube tire is to patch the inner one.
Let the air out, and if the tire is "cemented" pull it off, and, if the
"clincher," spring off, being careful in pushing the valve through the
hole in the rim. If it is the "clincher" pattern the inner tube may be
readily removed, but if a "cemented" tire, it is a trifle more
difficult. In the latter there is a slit about eight inches long in the
outer tube, where the valve comes through, which is held together with
lacing. Cut this lacing, and the two ends of the inner tube will be seen
to come together here. Fasten a string to one end, and catching hold of
the other end, pull the tube out, being careful to leave the string in
the casing. When removed inflate tightly, and grasping firmly a section
between your hands about a foot long, immerse in water and stretch to
the utmost; and if the puncture is in this section this will
sufficiently enlarge it to permit the free escape of bubbles. Continue
this way throughout the whole tube, and when the puncture is located,
bite a little piece of the rubber out from around it so that it may be
more readily found; let the air out, and cut a piece of rubber to fit
over the hole, covering the edges of the puncture and this piece with a
rubber cement made for this purpose; and when a trifle dry, place the
patch on and put a weight on top. Inflate and test in water for leaks,
and if all is right let the air out and fasten one end to the string,
which was carried into the outer tube on the removal of the inner one,
and by this haul it in place again, lacing up the slot with string.
Inflate again, and, after covering the rim of the wheel with cement,
place it on and let it dry, revolving the wheel with the rim and tire in
water so as to make the cement set.
The method of making permanent repairs in a hose-pipe or single-tube
tire is simple--namely, by plugging. A rubber plug with a head like a
rivet is covered with cement and inserted in the puncture, head within
the tire, and when it sets, the projecting part on the exterior is
trimmed off evenly.
RICK DALE.
BY KIRK MUNROE.
CHAPTER IX.
"CHINKS" AND "DOPE."
The dark passage into which the lads had just been ushered was short,
and ended at another door of heavy planking before Alaric found a chance
to ask his companion why they had come to such a very queer and
mysterious place. The opening of that second door admitted them to
another passage equally narrow, but well lighted, and lined with a
number of tiny rooms, each containing two bunks arranged like berths one
above the other. By the dim light in these rooms Alaric could see that
many of these berths were occupied by reclining figures, most of whom
were Chinamen, though a few were unmistakably white. Some were smoking
tiny metal-bowled pipes with long stems, while others lay in a
motionless stupor.
The air was heavy with a peculiarly sickening odor that Alaric
recognized at once. He had met it before during his travels among the
health resorts of Continental Europe, in which are gathered human wrecks
of every kind; of them all none had seemed to the lad so pitiable as the
wretched victims of the opium or morphine habit, which is the most
degrading and deadly form of intemperance.
This boy, so ignorant of many of the commonest things of life, and yet
wise far beyond his years concerning other phases, had often heard the
opium habit discussed, and knew that the hateful drug was taken in many
forms to banish pain, cause forgetfulness of sorrow, and produce a sleep
filled with beautiful dreams. He knew, too, of the sad awakening that
followed.
Knowing these things, Alaric was filled with horror at finding himself
in a Chinese opium den, and wondered if Bonny realized the true
character of the place. In order to find out he gained his comrade's
side, and asked, in a low tone, "Do you know, Bonny, what sort of a
place this is?"
"Yes, of course. It is Won Lung's joint."
"I mean do you know what the men in those bunks are doing?"
"Certainly," replied Bonny, cheerfully. "They're hitting the pipe."
Perplexed as he was by these answers, Alaric still asked another
question.
"But do you know what they are smoking in those pipes?"
"To be sure I do," answered the other, a trifle impatiently. "It's dope.
Most any one would know that. Didn't you ever smell it before?"
"Dope!" Once before had Alaric heard the word during that eventful day,
and he had even used it himself, without knowing its meaning. Now it
flashed across him. Dope was opium, and it was to form the sloop's
cargo.
The passage they had been traversing ended in an open court, so foreign
in its every detail that it appeared like a bit from some Chinese city
lifted bodily and transported to the New World. The dingy buildings
surrounding it were liberally provided with balconies, galleries, and
odd little projecting windows, all of which were occupied by Chinamen
gazing with languid interest at the busy scene below. From most of the
galleries hung rows of gayly colored paper lanterns, which gave the
place a very quaint and festive aspect.
On the pavement were dozens of other Chinamen, with here and there a
demure-looking little woman and a few children. Heaps of queer-looking
luggage, each piece done up in matting and fastened with narrow strips
of rattan, were piled in the corners. At one side was an immense stove,
or rather a huge affair of brick, containing a score or more of little
charcoal stoves, each fitted for the cooking of a single kettle of rice
or pot of tea. About this were gathered a number of men preparing their
evening meal. Many of the others were comparing certificates and
photographs, a proceeding that puzzled Alaric more than a little, for he
was so ignorant of the affairs of his own country that he knew nothing
of its Chinese Exclusion Law.
He began to learn something about it right there, however, and
subsequently discovered that while Chinese gentlemen and scholars are as
freely admitted to travel, study, or reside in the United States as are
similar classes from any other nation, the lower grades of Chinese,
rated as laborers, are forbidden by law to set foot on American soil.
Many thousands of Chinese laborers had come to the United States before
the exclusion law was passed, and these, by registering and allowing
themselves to be photographed for future identification, obtain
certificates which, while not permitting them to return if they once
leave the country, allow them to remain here undisturbed. Any Chinaman
found without such a protection is liable to be arrested and sent back
to his own land.
These certificates, therefore, are so valuable that there are plenty of
Chinamen who want to buy them, and thus get into the United States.
This, then, is what many of those whom Alaric and Bonny now encountered
were doing, for the place into which they had come was a Chinese hotel
in which all newly arrived Chinamen found shelter while waiting for work
or for a chance to smuggle themselves into the United States, which is
what ninety-nine out of every one hundred of them proposed to do if
possible.
As the lads stood together on the edge of this novel scene, while their
guide went from group to group making a brief announcement, Alaric,
seizing this first opportunity for acquiring definite information,
asked,
"What on earth are we here for, Bonny?" asked Alaric.
"To find out how many passengers are ticketed for to-night's boat and
get them started," was the reply.
"You don't mean that our passengers are to be Chinamen?"
"Yes, of course. I thought I told you so first thing this morning when
you asked me what the sloop carried."
"No. You only said passengers and freight."
"I ought to have said 'chinks.' But what's the odds? Chinks are
passengers, aren't they?"
"Do you mean Chinamen? Are 'chinks' Chinamen?"
"That's right," replied Bonny.
"Well," said Alaric, who had been on the coast long enough to imbibe all
a Californian's contempt for natives of the Flowery Kingdom, "if I'd
known that chinks meant Chinamen, and dope meant opium, I should have
been too much ashamed of what the _Fancy_ carried ever to tell any one
about it."
"I hope you won't," responded Bonny. "There isn't any necessity for you
to that I know of."
"But I have already. There was a man on the wharf while I was getting
aired who asked me what our cargo was. Just to see what he would say I
told him 'chinks and dope,' though I hadn't the slightest idea of what
either of them meant."
"My! but that's bad!" cried Bonny, with an anxious look on his face. "I
only hope he wasn't a beak. They've been watching us pretty sharp
lately, and I know the old man is in a regular tizzy wizzy for fear
we'll get nabbed."
Before Alaric could ask why they should be nabbed, Won Lung, the
proprietor of the establishment, who also acted as interpreter, came to
where they were standing, greeted Bonny as an old acquaintance, looked
curiously at Alaric, and announced that thirty-six of his boarders had
procured tickets for a passage to the sound on the _Fancy_.
"We can't take but twenty of 'em on this trip," said the young mate,
decidedly. "And with their dunnage we'll have to stow 'em like sardines
anyway. The others must wait till next time."
"Mebbe you tlake some man in clabin, some mebbe in fo'c's'le," suggested
Won Lung, blandly.
"Mebbe we don't do anything of the kind," replied Bonny. "The trip may
last several days, and I know I for one am not going to be crowded out
of my sleeping quarters. So, Mr. Lung, if you send down one man more
than twenty he goes overboard. You savey that?"
[Illustration: "YEP, ME SABBY. ALLEE SAME, ME NO LIKEE."]
"Yep, me sabby. Allee same me no likee."
"Sorry, but I can't help it. And you want to hustle 'em along too, for
we are going to sail in half an hour. Got the stuff ready?"
"Yep, all leddy. Two hun'l poun'."
"Good enough. Send it right along with us."
A few minutes later our lads had left Won Lung's queer hotel and were
out in the quiet streets accompanied by two Chinese coolies, who bore
heavy burdens slung from the ends of stout bamboo poles carried across
their shoulders.
As Bonny seemed disinclined to talk, Alaric refrained from asking
questions, and the little party proceeded in silence through
unfrequented streets to the place where their sloop lay. Here the
burdens borne by the coolies were transferred to the cabin, where this
part of the cargo was left with Captain Duff, and Alaric had no
knowledge of where it was stowed.
While the Captain was thus busy below, Bonny was giving the crew his
first lesson in seamanship by pointing out three ropes that he called
jib, throat, and peak halyards, showing him how to make them fast about
their respective belaying-pins, and impressing upon him the importance
of remembering them.
Shortly after this the score of long-queued passengers arrived with
their odd-looking packages of personal belongings, were taken aboard in
silence, and stowed in the hold until Alaric wondered if they were piled
on top of one another like sticks of cord-wood.
Then the mooring-lines were cast off, and the _Fancy_ drifted
noiselessly out of the slip with the ebbing tide. Once clear of it the
jib was hoisted, and she began to glide out of the harbor before a
gentle off-shore breeze.
CHAPTER X.
PUGET SOUND SMUGGLERS.
The great landlocked body of salt water known as Puget Sound,
penetrating for nearly one hundred miles the northwestern corner of
Washington, the Northwest State, is justly termed a smuggler's paradise.
It pierces the land in every direction with a perfect net-work of
inlets, channels, and bays lined with endless miles of forest, frowning
cliffs, and snugly hidden harbors. The upper end of the sound, where its
width entitles it to be called a gulf, is filled with an archipelago of
rugged islands of all sizes and shapes, thinly settled, and offering
innumerable secure hiding-places for small boats. Here and there along
the shores of the sound are Indian reservations uncleared and unoccupied
save by dwindling remnants of the once populous coast tribes. These
Indians, though retaining their tribal names among themselves, are all
known to the whites under the one designation of "Siwash," a corruption
of the French _sauvage_.
On the eastern side of the sound are the important American cities of
Seattle and Tacoma; while at its extreme southern end stands Olympia,
Washington's capital. On its western side, and just north of the Strait
of Juan de Fuca that connects the sound with the ocean, is located the
Canadian city of Victoria, from which all the smuggling operations of
these waters are conducted.