the curb. The boy lustily squeezed the bulb of the horn on his handlebars. Finally the red-faced driver of the cart turned around.
"Nothin' doin', big boy," jeered the driver. "Keep that Rolls-Rough back where it belongs."
The cyclist grinned. He shrewdly gauged the space between the water-filled juggernaut and the sidewalk. Deciding he could make it, he put on speed. He edged closer to the rear of the cart. His cycle wheels an inch from the curb, he started to ease past. The driver of the cart, sensing that he was being bested, reached over toward a lever near his seat. No water had been issuing from the snake-like pipes protruding from the stern of the barrel-like vehicle. Now its hard-hearted chauffeur proposed to give this intrepid cyclist a drenching.
He turned the lever. The bicycle was exactly opposite the point where huge sheets of water usually flooded out. The driver expected his prey to be half drowned in a young Niagara.
The water swashed out! But, alas for the practical-joking keeper of the floods, it came from only one pipe. And that was the hose on the opposite side from his victim. A few miserable drops fell apologetically from the pipe near the curb.
The youth on the bicycle laughed aloud as he realized what had been intended for him. He was forging ahead, was opposite the driver's seat.
"Hard luck, old timer," the cyclist shouted sarcastically. "That cart of yours is only meant for alleys."
The driver turned redder than ever. His lan-
