CHAPTER V
THE BALLOONIST'S RESCUE
There was a sharp bang as the bicycle struck the tree stump. Frank righted himself readily and ran to the machine where it had fallen.
"Pshaw!" he exclaimed, "tire punctured and the wheel a pretty bad wreck generally."
This was true. A jagged sliver had ripped a hole in both the outer and inner tubes of the front wheel. The hard bang against the tree stump had twisted several spokes out of place and set a rim wobbling.
Frank had started in such a hurry from Riverton that morning that he had not thought of taking his mending kit along. He debated what he should do without further loss of time.
"I might carry it," he reflected. "If I try to run it, I will loosen it up more and lose some of the parts. Guess I'll leave it here, get my message to Mr. Buckner, stop at the house for my tool kit, and fix the machine up right here. This way, my staunch and trusty friend," he hailed to
37
