One moment the bicycle would be on the gravel path, and he on top of it; the next, the position would be reversed--he on the gravel path, the bicycle on him.

Now he would be standing flushed with victory, the bicycle firmly fixed between his legs.

But his triumph would be short-lived.

By a sudden, quick movement it would free itself, and, turning upon him, hit him sharply over the head with one of its handles.
At a quarter to one, dirty and dishevelled, cut and breeding, he said: "I think that will do;" and rose and wiped his brow.
The bicycle looked as if it also had had enough of it.

Which had received most punishment it would have been difficult to say.