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of the road, and if you see a tramline, go round the corner at once,
and hurry off into the next county--and always light up before dark. You
mind just a few little things like that, Hoopdriver, and nothing much
can't happen to you--you take my word."
"
"
Right you are!" said Hoopdriver. "Good-night, old man."
Good-night," said Briggs, and there was silence for a space, save
for the succulent respiration of the pipe. Hoopdriver rode off into
Dreamland on his machine, and was scarcely there before he was pitched
back into the world of sense again.--Something--what was it?
"Never oil the steering. It's fatal," a voice that came from round
a fitful glow of light, was saying. "And clean the chain daily with
black-lead. You mind just a few little things like that--"
"Lord LOVE us!" said Hoopdriver, and pulled the bedclothes over his
ears.
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