forward: I sat erect on my Manitou, pulling hard at my handles. Now, my
front wheel was upon him. It reached his pedal. We were abreast. He had
a narrow thread of solid path, and he forced me into a runnel. Still I
gained. He swerved: I think he tried to foul me. But the slope was too
steep; his attempt recoiled on himself; he ran against the rock at the
side and almost overbalanced. That second lost him. I waved my hand as I
sailed ahead. 'Good morning,' I cried, gaily. 'See you again at
Limburg!'
From the top of the slope I put my feet up and flew down into Idstein. A
thunder-shower burst: I was glad of the cool of it. It laid the dust. I
regained the high road. From that moment, save for the risk of
sideslips, 'twas easy running--just an undulating line with occasional
ups and downs; but I saw no more of my pursuers till, twenty-two
kilometres farther on, I rattled on the cobble-paved causeway into
Limburg. I had covered the forty-six miles in quick time for a mountain
climb. As I crossed the bridge over the Lahn, to my immense surprise,
Mr. Hitchcock waved his arms, all excitement, to greet me. He had taken
the train on from Eppstein, it seemed, and got there before me. As I
dismounted at the Cathedral, which was our appointed end, and gave my
badge to the soldier, he rushed up and shook my hand. 'Fifty pounds!' he
cried. 'Fifty pounds! How's that for the great Anglo-Saxon race! And
hooray for the Manitou!'
The second man, the civilian, rode in, wet and draggled, forty seconds
later. As for the Herr Lieutenant, a disappointed man, he fell out by
the way, alleging a puncture. I believe he was ashamed to admit the fact
that he had been beaten in open fight by the objurgated Englaenderin.
So the end of it was, I was now a woman of means, with fifty pounds of
my own to my credit.
I lunched with my backer royally at the best inn in Limburg.
IV
THE ADVENTURE OF THE AMATEUR COMMISSION AGENT
My eccentric American had assured me that if I won the great race for
him I need not be 'skeert' lest he should fail to treat me well; and to
do him justice, I must admit that he kept his word magnanimously. While
we sat at lunch in the cosy hotel at Limburg he counted out and paid me
in hand the fifty good gold pieces he had promised me. 'Whether these
Deutschers fork out my twenty thousand marks or not,' he said, in his
brisk way, 'it don't much matter. I shall get the contract, and I shall
hev gotten the adver_tize_ment!'
'Why do you start your bicycles in Germany, though?' I asked,
innocently. 'I should have thought myself there was so much a better
chance of selling them in England.'
[Illustration: LET THEM BOOM OR BUST ON IT.]
He closed one eye, and looked abstractedly at the light through his
glass of pale yellow Brauneberger with the other. 'England? Yes,
England! Well, see, miss, you hev not been raised in business. Business
is business. The way to do it in Germany is--to manufacture for
yourself: and I've got my works started right here in Frankfort. The way
to do it in England--where capital's dirt cheap--is, to sell your patent
for every cent it's worth to an English company, and let them boom or
bust on it.'
'I see,' I said, catching at it. 'The principle's as clear as mud, the
moment you point it out to one. An English company will pay you well for
the concession, and work for a smaller return on its investment than you
Americans are content to receive on your capital!'
'That's so! You hit it in one, miss! Which will you take, a cigar or a
cocoa-nut?'
I smiled. 'And what do you think you will call the machine in Europe?'
He gazed hard at me, and stroked his straw-coloured moustache. 'Well,
what do _you_ think of the _Lois Cayley_?'
'For Heaven's sake, no!' I cried, fervently. 'Mr. Hitchcock, I implore
you!'
He smiled pity for my weakness. 'Ah, high-toned again?' he repeated, as
if it were some natural malformation under which I laboured. 'Oh, ef you
don't like it, miss, we'll say no more about it. I am a gentleman, I am.
What's the matter with the _Excelsior_?'
'Nothing, except that it's very bad Latin,' I objected.
'That may be so; but it's very good business.'
He paused and mused, then he murmured low to himself, '"When through an
Alpine village passed." That's where the idea of the _Excelsior_ comes
in; see? "It goes up Mont Blanc," you said yourself. "Through snow and
ice, A cycle with the strange device, Excelsior!"'
'If I were you,' I said, 'I would stick to the name _Manitou_. It's
original, and it's distinctive.'
'Think so? Then chalk it up; the thing's done. You may not be aware of
it, miss, but you are a lady for whose opinion in such matters I hev a
high regard. _And_ you understand Europe. I do not. I admit it.
Everything seems to me to be _verboten_ in Germany; and everything else
to be _bad form_ in England.'
We walked down the steps together. 'What a picturesque old town!' I
said, looking round me, well pleased. Its beauty appealed to me, for I
had fifty pounds in pocket, and I had lunched sumptuously.
'_Old_ town?' he repeated, gazing with a blank stare. 'You call this
town _old_, do you?'
'Why, of course! Just look at the cathedral! Eight hundred years old, at
least!'
He ran his eye down the streets, dissatisfied.
'Well, ef this town is old,' he said at last, with a snap of his
fingers, 'it's precious little for its age.' And he strode away towards
the railway station.
'What about the bicycle?' I asked; for it lay, a silent victor, against
the railing of the steps, surrounded by a crowd of inquiring Teutons.
He glanced at it carelessly. 'Oh, the wheel?' he said. 'You may keep
it.'
He said it so exactly in the tone in which one tells a waiter he may
keep the change, that I resented the impertinence. 'No, thank you,' I
answered. 'I do not require it.'
He gazed at me, open-mouthed. 'What? Put my foot in it again?' he
interposed. 'Not high-toned enough? Eh? Now, I do regret it. No offence
meant, miss, nor none need be taken. What I meant to in-sinuate was
this: you hev won the big race for me. Folks will notice you and talk
about you at Frankfort. Ef you ride a Manitou, that'll make 'em talk the
more. A mutual advantage. Benefits you; benefits me. You get the wheel;
I get the adver_tize_ment.'
I saw that reciprocity was the lodestar of his life. 'Very well, Mr.
Hitchcock,' I said, pocketing my pride, 'I'll accept the machine, and
I'll ride it.'
Then a light dawned upon me. I saw eventualities. 'Look here,' I went
on, innocently--recollect, I was a girl just fresh from Girton--'I am
thinking of going on very soon to Switzerland. Now, why shouldn't I do
this--try to sell your machines, or, rather, take orders for them, from
anybody that admires them? A mutual advantage. Benefits you; benefits
me. You sell your wheels; I get----'
He stared at me. 'The commission?'
'I don't know what commission means,' I answered, somewhat at sea as to
the name; 'but I thought it might be worth your while, till the Manitou
becomes better known, to pay me, say, ten per cent on all orders I
brought you.'
His face was one broad smile. 'I do admire at you, miss,' he cried,
standing still to inspect me. 'You may not know the meaning of the
_word_ commission; but durned ef you haven't got a hang of the _thing_
itself that would do honour to a Wall Street operator, anyway.'
'Then that's business?' I asked, eagerly; for I beheld vistas.
'Business?' he repeated. 'Yes, that's jest about the size of
it--business. Adver_tize_ment, miss, may be the soul of commerce, but
Commission's its body. You go in and win. Ten per cent on every order
you send me!'
He insisted on taking my ticket back to Frankfort. 'My affair, miss; my
affair!' There was no gainsaying him. He was immensely elated. 'The
biggest thing in cycles since Dunlop tyres,' he repeated. 'And
to-morrow, they'll give me advertizements gratis in every newspaper!'
Next morning, he came round to call on me at the Abode of Unclaimed
Domestic Angels. He was explicit and generous. 'Look here, miss,' he
began; 'I didn't do fair by you when you interviewed me about your
agency last evening. I took advantage, _at_ the time, _of_ your youth
and inexperience. You suggested 10 per cent _as_ the amount of your
commission on sales you might effect; and I jumped at it. That was
conduct unworthy _of_ a gentleman. Now, I will not deceive you. The
ordinary commission on transactions in wheels is 25 per cent. I am going
to sell the Manitou retail at twenty English pounds apiece. You shall
hev your 25 per cent on all orders.'
'Five pounds for every machine I sell?' I exclaimed, overjoyed.
He nodded. 'That's so.'
I was simply amazed at this magnificent prospect. 'The cycle trade must
be honeycombed with middlemen's profits!' I cried; for I had my
misgivings.
'That's so,' he replied again. 'Then jest you take and be a
middlewoman.'
'But, as a consistent socialist----'
'It is your duty to fleece the capitalist and the consumer. A mutual
benefit--triangular this time. I get the order, the public gets the
machine, and you get the commission. I am richer, you are richer, and
the public is mounted on much the best wheel ever yet invented.'
'That sounds plausible,' I admitted. 'I shall try it on in Switzerland.
I shall run up steep hills whenever I see any likely customers looking
on; then I shall stop and ask them the time, as if quite accidentally.'
He rubbed his hands. 'You take to business like a young duck to the
water,' he exclaimed, admiringly. 'That's the way to rake 'em in! You go
up and say to them, "Why not investigate? We defy competition. Leave the
drudgery of walking uphill beside your cycle! Progress is the order of
the day. Use modern methods! This is the age of the telegraph, the
telephone, _and_ the typewriter. You kin no longer afford to go on with
an antiquated, ante-diluvian, armour-plated wheel. Invest in a
Hill-Climber, the last and lightest product of evvolootion. _Is_ it
common-sense to buy an old-style, unautomatic, single-geared,
inconvertible ten-ton machine, when for the same money or less you can
purchase the self-acting Manitou, a priceless gem, as light as a
feather, with all the most recent additions and improvements? Be
reasonable! Get the best!" That's the style to fetch 'em!'
I laughed, in spite of myself. 'Oh, Mr. Hitchcock,' I burst out, 'that's
not _my_ style at all. I shall say, simply "This is a lovely new
bicycle. You can see for yourself how it climbs hills. Try it, if you
wish. It skims like a swallow. And I get what they call five pounds
commission on every one I can sell of them!" I think that way of dealing
is much more likely to bring you in orders.'
His admiration was undisguised. 'Well, I _do_ call you a woman of
business, miss,' he cried. 'You see it at a glance. That's so. That's
the right kind of thing to rope in the Europeans. Some originality about
you. You take 'em on their own ground. You've got the draw on them, you
hev. I like your system. You'll jest haul in the dollars!'
'I hope so,' I said, fervently; for I had evolved in my own mind, oh,
such a _lovely_ scheme for Elsie Petheridge's holidays!
He gazed at me once more. 'Ef only I could get hold of a woman of
business like you to soar through life with me,' he murmured.
[Illustration: HIS OPEN ADMIRATION WAS GETTING QUITE EMBARRASSING.]
I grew interested in my shoes. His open admiration was getting quite
embarrassing.
He paused a minute. Then he went on: 'Well, what do you say to it?'
'To what?' I asked, amazed.
'To my proposition--my offer.'
'I-- I don't understand,' I stammered out bewildered. 'The 25 per cent,
you mean?'
'No, the de-votion of a lifetime,' he answered, looking sideways at me.
'Miss Cayley, when a business man advances a proposition, commercial or
otherwise, he advances it because he means it. He asks a prompt reply.
Your time is valuable. So is mine. _Are_ you prepared to consider it?'
'Mr. Hitchcock,' I said, drawing back, 'I think you misunderstand. I
think you do not realise----'
'All right, miss,' he answered, promptly, though with a disappointed
air. 'Ef it kin not be managed, it kin not be managed. I understand your
European ex-clusiveness. I know your prejudices. But this little episode
need not antagonise with the normal course of ordinary business. I
respect you, Miss Cayley. You are a lady _of_ intelligence, _of_
initiative, and _of_ high-toned culture. I will wish you good day for
the present, without further words; and I shall be happy at any time to
receive your orders on the usual commission.'
He backed out and was gone. He was so honestly blunt that I really quite
liked him.
Next day, I bade a tearless farewell to the Blighted Fraus. When I told
those eight phlegmatic souls I was going, they all said 'So!' much as
they had said 'So!' to every previous remark I had been moved to make
to them. 'So' is capital garnishing: but viewed as a staple of
conversation, I find it a trifle vapid, not to say monotonous.
I set out on my wanderings, therefore, to go round the world on my own
account and my own Manitou, which last I grew to love in time with a
love passing the love of Mr. Cyrus Hitchcock. I carried the strict
necessary before me in a small waterproof bicycling valise; but I sent
on the portmanteau containing my whole estate, real or personal, to some
point in advance which I hoped to reach from time to time in a day or
two. My first day's journey was along a pleasant road from Frankfort to
Heidelberg, some fifty-four miles in all, skirting the mountains the
greater part of the way; the Manitou took the ups and downs so easily
that I diverged at intervals, to choose side-paths over the wooded
hills. I arrived at Heidelberg as fresh as a daisy, my mount not having
turned a hair meanwhile--a favourite expression of cyclists which
carries all the more conviction to an impartial mind because of the
machine being obviously hairless. Thence I journeyed on by easy stages
to Karlsruhe, Baden, Appenweier, and Offenburg; where I set my front
wheel resolutely for the Black Forest. It is the prettiest and most
picturesque route to Switzerland; and, being also the hilliest, it would
afford me, I thought, the best opportunity for showing off the Manitou's
paces, and trying my prentice hand as an amateur cycle-agent.
From the quaint little Black Eagle at Offenburg, however, before I
dashed into the Forest, I sent off a letter to Elsie Petheridge, setting
forth my lovely scheme for her summer holidays. She was delicate, poor
child, and the London winters sorely tried her; I was now a millionaire,
with the better part of fifty pounds in pocket, so I felt I could afford
to be royal in my hospitality. As I was leaving Frankfort, I had called
at a tourist agency and bought a second-class circular ticket from
London to Lucerne and back-- I made it second-class because I am opposed
on principle to excessive luxury, and also because it was three guineas
cheaper. Even fifty pounds will not last for ever, though I could scarce
believe it. (You see, I am not wholly free, after all, from the
besetting British vice of prudence.) It was a mighty joy to me to be
able to send this ticket to Elsie, at her lodgings in Bayswater,
pointing out to her that now the whole mischief was done, and that if
she would not come out as soon as her summer vacation began--'twas a
point of honour with Elsie to say _vacation_, instead of _holidays_--to
join me at Lucerne, and stop with me as my guest at a mountain
_pension_, the ticket would be wasted. I love burning my boats; 'tis the
only safe way for securing prompt action.
Then I turned my flying wheels up into the Black Forest, growing weary
of my loneliness--for it is not all jam to ride by oneself in
Germany--and longing for Elsie to come out and join me. I loved to think
how her dear pale cheeks would gain colour and tone on the hills about
the Bruenig, where, for business reasons (so I said to myself with the
conscious pride of the commission agent), I proposed to pass the greater
part of the summer.
From Offenburg to Hornberg the road makes a good stiff climb of
twenty-seven miles, and some 1200 English feet in altitude, with a fair
number of minor undulations on the way to diversify it. I will not
describe the route, though it is one of the most beautiful I have ever
travelled--rocky hills, ruined castles, huge, straight-stemmed pines
that clamber up green slopes, or halt in sombre line against steeps of
broken crag; the reality surpasses my poor powers of description. And
the people I passed on the road were almost as quaint and picturesque
in their way as the hills and the villages--the men in red-lined
jackets; the women in black petticoats, short-waisted green bodices, and
broad-brimmed straw hats with black-and-crimson pompons. But on the
steepest gradient, just before reaching Hornberg, I got my first
nibble--strange to say, from two German students; they wore Heidelberg
caps, and were toiling up the incline with short, broken wind; I put on
a spurt with the Manitou, and passed them easily. I did it just at first
in pure wantonness of health and strength; but the moment I was clear of
them, it occurred to the business half of me that here was a good chance
of taking an order. Filled with this bright idea, I dismounted near the
summit, and pretended to be engaged in lubricating my bearings; though
as a matter of fact the Manitou runs in a bath of oil, self-feeding, and
needs no looking after. Presently, my two Heidelbergers straggled
up--hot, dusty, panting. Woman-like, I pretended to take no notice. One
of them drew near and cast an eye on the Manitou.
'That's a new machine, Fraeulein,' he said, at last, with more politeness
than I expected.
'It is,' I answered, casually; 'the latest model. Climbs hills like no
other.' And I feigned to mount and glide off towards Hornberg.
'Stop a moment, pray, Fraeulein,' my prospective buyer called out. 'Here,
Heinrich, I wish you this new so excellent mountain-climbing machine,
without chain propelled, more fully to investigate.'
'I am going on to Hornberg,' I said, with mixed feminine guile and
commercial strategy; 'still, if your friend wishes to look----'
[Illustration: MINUTE INSPECTION.]
They both jostled round it, with _achs_ innumerable, and, after minute
inspection, pronounced its principle _wunderschoen_. 'Might I essay it?'
Heinrich asked.
'Oh, by all means,' I answered. He paced it down hill a few yards; then
skimmed up again.
'It is a bird!' he cried to his friend, with many guttural
interjections. 'Like the eagle's flight, so soars it. Come, try the
thing, Ludwig!'
'You permit, Fraeulein?'
I nodded. They both mounted it several times. It behaved like a beauty.
Then one of them asked, 'And where can man of this new so remarkable
machine nearest by purchase himself make possessor?'
'I am the Sole Agent,' I burst out, with swelling dignity. 'If you will
give me your orders, with cash in hand for the amount, I will send the
cycle, carriage paid, to any address you desire in Germany.'
'You!' they exclaimed, incredulously. 'The Fraeulein is pleased to be
humorous!'
'Oh, very well,' I answered, vaulting into the saddle; 'If you choose to
doubt my word----' I waved one careless hand and coasted off.
'Good-morning, meine Herren.'
They lumbered after me on their ramshackled traction-engines. 'Pardon,
Fraeulein! Do not thus go away! Oblige us at least with the name and
address of the maker.'
I perpended--like the Herr Over-Superintendent at Frankfort. 'Look
here,' I said at last, telling the truth with frankness, 'I get 25 per
cent on all bicycles I sell. I am, as I say, the maker's Sole Agent. If
you order through me, I touch my profit; if otherwise, I do not. Still,
since you seem to be gentlemen,' they bowed and swelled visibly, 'I will
give you the address of the firm, trusting to your honour to mention my
name'--I handed them a card--'if you decide on ordering. The price of
the palfrey is 400 marks. It is worth every pfennig of it.' And before
they could say more, I had spurred my steed and swept off at full speed
round a curve of the highway.
I pencilled a note to my American that night from Hornberg, detailing
the circumstance; but I am sorry to say, for the discredit of humanity,
that when those two students wrote the same evening from their inn in
the village to order Manitous, they did _not_ mention my name, doubtless
under the misconception that by suppressing it they would save my
commission. However, it gives me pleasure to add _per contra_ (as we say
in business) that when I arrived at Lucerne a week or so later I found a
letter, _poste restante_, from Mr. Cyrus Hitchcock, inclosing an English
ten-pound note. He wrote that he had received two orders for Manitous
from Hornberg; and 'feeling considerable confidence that these must
necessarily originate' from my German students, he had the pleasure of
forwarding me what he hoped would be the first of many similar
commissions.
[Illustration: FELT A PERFECT LITTLE HYPOCRITE.]
I will not describe my further adventures on the still steeper mountain
road from Hornberg to Triberg and St. Georgen--how I got bites on the
way from an English curate, an Austrian hussar, and two unprotected
American ladies; nor how I angled for them all by riding my machine up
impossible hills, and then reclining gracefully to eat my lunch (three
times in one day) on mossy banks at the summit. I felt a perfect little
hypocrite. But Mr. Hitchcock had remarked that business is business; and
I will only add (in confirmation of his view) that by the time I reached
Lucerne, I had sown the good seed in fifteen separate human souls, no
less than four of which brought forth fruit in orders for Manitous
before the end of the season.
I had now so little fear what the morrow might bring forth that I
settled down in a comfortable hotel at Lucerne till Elsie's holidays
began; and amused myself meanwhile by picking out the hilliest roads I
could find in the neighbourhood, in order to display my steel steed's
possibilities to the best advantage.
By the end of July, Elsie joined me. She was half-angry at first that I
should have forced the ticket and my hospitality upon her.
'Nonsense, dear,' I said, smoothing her hair, for her pale face quite
frightened me. 'What is the good of a friend if she will not allow you
to do her little favours?'
'But, Brownie, you said you wouldn't stop and be dependent upon _me_ one
day longer than was necessary in London.'
'That was different,' I cried. 'That was Me! This is You! I am a great,
strong, healthy thing, fit to fight the battle of life and take care of
myself; you, Elsie, are one of those fragile little flowers which 'tis
everybody's duty to protect and to care for.'
She would have protested more; but I stifled her mouth with kisses.
Indeed, for nothing did I rejoice in my prosperity so much as for the
chance it gave me of helping poor dear overworked, overwrought Elsie.
We took up our quarters thenceforth at a high-perched little guest-house
near the top of the Bruenig. It was bracing for Elsie; and it lay close
to a tourist track where I could spread my snares and exhibit the
Manitou in its true colours to many passing visitors. Elsie tried it,
and found she could ride on it with ease. She wished she had one of her
own. A bright idea struck me. In fear and trembling, I wrote, suggesting
to Mr. Hitchcock that I had a girl friend from England stopping with me
in Switzerland, and that two Manitous would surely be better than one as
an adver_tize_ment. I confess I stood aghast at my own cheek; but my
hand, I fear, was rapidly growing 'subdued to that it worked in.' Anyhow
I sent the letter off, and waited developments.
By return of post came an answer from my American.
'DEAR MISS--By rail herewith please receive one lady's No. 4
automatic quadruple-geared self-feeding Manitou, as per your
esteemed favour of July 27th, for which I desire to thank you. The
more I see of your way of doing business, the more I do admire at
you. This is an elegant poster! Two high-toned English ladies,
mounted on Manitous, careering up the Alps, represent to both of
us quite a mint of money. The mutual benefit, to me, to you, and
to the other lady, ought to be simply incalculable. I shall be
pleased at any time to hear of any further developments of your
very remarkable advertising skill, and I am obliged to you for
this brilliant suggestion you have been good enough to make to
me.--Respectfully,