Dusty Diamonds Cut and Polished: A Tale of City Arab Life and Adventure by - (best self help books to read txt) 📖

The people of the caravan—whoever they were—had seen him coming, and, beginning to realise his danger to some extent, had hastily cleared the road to let him pass.

Welland considered the rate of speed; felt, rather than calculated, the angle of inclination; leaned over boldly until the tire almost slipped sideways on the road, and came rushing round with a magnificent sweep, when, horrible sight! a slight ridge of what is called road-metal crossed the entire road from side to side! A drain or water pipe had recently been repaired, and the new ridge had not yet been worn down by traffic. There was no time for thought or change of action. Another moment and the wheel was upon it, the crash came, and the rider went off with such force that he was shot well in advance of the machine, as it went with tremendous violence into the ditch. If Welland’s feet had been on the treadles he must have turned a complete somersault. As it was he alighted on his feet, but came to the ground with such force that he failed to save himself. One frantic effort he made and then went down headlong and rolled over on his back in a state of insensibility.

When Sam Twitter came to the bottom of the hill with the brake well applied he was able to check himself in time to escape the danger, and ran to where his friend lay.

For a few minutes the unfortunate youth lay as if he had been dead. Then his blood resumed its flow, and when the eyes opened he found Sam kneeling on one side of him with a smelling bottle which some lady had lent him, and a kindly-faced elderly man with an iron-grey beard kneeling on the other side and holding a cup of water to his lips.

“That’s right, Stephen, look up,” said Sam, who was terribly frightened, “you’re not much hurt, are you?”

“Hurt, old fellow, eh?” sighed Stephen, “why should I be hurt? Where am I? What has happened?”

“Take a sip, my young friend, it will revive you,” said the man with the kindly face. “You have had a narrow escape, but God has mercifully spared you. Try to move now; gently—we must see that no bones have been broken before allowing you to rise.”

By this time Welland had completely recovered, and was anxious to rise; all the more that a crowd of children surrounded him, among whom he observed several ladies and gentlemen, but he lay still until the kindly stranger had felt him all over and come to the conclusion that no serious damage had been done.

“Oh! I’m all right, thank you,” said the youth on rising, and affecting to move as though nothing had happened, but he was constrained to catch hold of the stranger rather suddenly, and sat down on the grass by the road-side.

“I do believe I’ve got a shake after all,” he said with a perplexed smile and sigh. “But,” he added, looking round with an attempt at gaiety, “I suspect my poor bicycle has got a worse shake. Do look after it, Sam, and see how it is.”

Twitter soon returned with a crestfallen expression. “It’s done for, Stephen. I’m sorry to say the whole concern seems to be mashed up into a kind of wire-fencing!”

“Is it past mending, Sam?”

“Past mending by any ordinary blacksmith, certainly. No one but the maker can doctor it, and I should think it would take him a fortnight at least.”

“What is to be done?” said Stephen, with some of his companion’s regret of tone. “What a fool I was to take such a hill—spoilt such a glorious day too—for you as well as myself, Sam. I’m very sorry, but that won’t mend matters.”

“Are you far from home, gentlemen?” asked the man with the iron-grey beard, who had listened to the conversation with a look of sympathy.

“Ay, much too far to walk,” said Welland. “D’you happen to know how far off the nearest railway station is?”

“Three miles,” answered the stranger, “and in your condition you are quite unfit to walk that distance.”

“I’m not so sure of that,” replied the youth, with a pitiful look. “I think I’m game for three miles, if I had nothing to carry but myself, but I can’t leave my bicycle in the ditch, you know!”

“Of course you can’t,” rejoined the stranger in a cheery tone, “and I think we can help you in this difficulty. I am a London City Missionary. My name is John Seaward. We have, as you see, brought out a number of our Sunday-school children, to give them a sight of God’s beautiful earth; poor things, they’ve been used to bricks, mortar, and stone all their lives hitherto. Now, if you choose to spend the remainder of the day with us, we will be happy to give you and the injured bicycle a place in our vans till we reach a cabstand or a railway station. What say you? It will give much pleasure to me and the teachers.”

Welland glanced at his friend. “You see, Sam, there’s no help for it, old boy. You’ll have to return alone.”

“Unless your friend will also join us,” said the missionary.

“You are very kind,” said Sam, “but I cannot stay, as I have an engagement which must be kept. Never mind, Stephen. I’ll just complete the trip alone, and comfort myself with the assurance that I leave you in good hands. So, good-bye, old boy.”

“Good-bye, Twitter,” said Stephen, grasping his friend’s hand.

“Twitter,” repeated the missionary, “I heard your friend call you Sam just now. Excuse my asking—are you related to Samuel Twitter of Twitter, Slime, and Company, in the city?”

“I’m his eldest son,” said Sam.

“Then I have much pleasure in making your acquaintance,” returned the other, extending his hand, “for although I have never met your father, I know your mother well. She is one of the best and most regular teachers in our Sunday-schools. Is she not, Hetty?” he said, turning to a sweet-faced girl who stood near him.

“Indeed she is, I was her pupil for some years, and now I teach one of her old classes,” replied the girl.

“I work in the neighbourhood of Whitechapel, sir,” continued the missionary, “and most of the children here attend the Institution in George Yard.”

“Well, I shall tell my mother of this unexpected meeting,” said Sam, as he remounted his bicycle. “Good-bye, Stephen. Don’t romp too much with the children!”

“Adieu, Sam, and don’t break your neck on the bicycle.”

In a few minutes Sam Twitter and his bicycle were out of sight.