I    HAD been touring awheel in Eastern Pennsylvania and two days of my outing remained when I put up at the hotel in the little town of W--- one fine afternoon in September. A journey of fifty miles had served to exhilarate rather than fatigue me, for it was a golden autumn day when animate and inanimate things seemed to possess alike a thrill of life. Supper eaten, I found myself an object of interest to the little knot of loungers that gathers round the porch of every country inn at evening. Casual inquiry as to the condition the roads roundabout elicited ready information that they were in fine shape and lay across a rolling country. An hour's chat whiled away the interval between dusk and darkness and I watched the moon thrust first a silver rim and then a nearly perfect disk up over the hills in the East.

      "Do you have to carry a lamp to ride here nights?" I asked.

      "'Tisn't necessary," said the hotel keeper.

      I went into the office, stripped my wheel of its bulky luggage carrier and trundled it out into the road.

      "If you're lookin' for a good ride," said the proprietor, "follow this road and keep turnin' to the right at all the junctions. It'll take you round in a twenty-mile circle and land you back here."

      "Thanks," I called back as I dropped into the saddle. A few minutes later I was skimming past the isolated houses on the outskirts of the village. The night was an ideal one for a cyclist. The breeze was cool and gentle, and as the moon climbed higher flickering black shadows danced to and fro on a road of milky whiteness. I passed a couple of merry wagon parties and then as I sped along the winding pike the signs of civilization grew fewer until only the well kept thoroughfare served as a reminder of the hand of man. Now the woods on either side of the road became more frequent and I shot along under long archways of trees. Steep hills seemed to melt away into gentle slopes and I whirled down the inclines in the full enjoyment of a glorious night.

      Soon I entered another avenue of trees. I hummed softly to myself a few snatches of song and was in the gayest of spirits. Then I became aware of a presence at my side.

      I swerved violently and missed by a hair's breadth a collision with a wheelman who had noiselessly overtaken me. So startled was I that I uttered an angry exclamation as I recovered myself. The strange rider shot ahead a few feet and then dropped back at my side. A sharp rebuke was on my tongue, when I checked myself and sought a closer glimpse of my unbidden companion. He held his place at my side with no apparent exertion, although our pace was rapid, and I soon became aware that his conduct was, to say the least, peculiar.

      Bent low over a pair of racing handle bars, his face was screened from view in the uncertain light. As accurately as I could discern, he was garbed in a suit of black tights. On his head was a close fitting cap. His figure was tall, slender and athletic. But what most attracted my attention was his wheel, which seemed to be of such marvelously fine construction that it slipped along without the click of a chain link or the creak of a saddle nut. He rode so close to me that I could have touched him by putting out my hand, yet never once did he raise his head or by word or sign give indication that he was aware of my presence.

      Side by side we shot out into an open stretch of road. That I was being used as a pacemaker soon became evident. It nettled me when I found that every time I slackened speed he did likewise and every time I pedaled more rapidly he held his position at my elbow. His conduct and his silence disturbed my peace of mind, and I decided to rid myself of his company. I increased the pace slowly at first and when we reached a slight incline I let out a few links more and shot up the grade at top speed. My emotion upon reaching the top of the hill was that of chagrin when I found him still at my side, his head bent low, his legs working with ease and precision of piston rods. I held the pace until I panted for wind, but the black rider was apparently tireless. A dozen times I was on the point of speaking and finally I blurted:

      "Fine night."

      He made no answer, nor even turned his head. I was astonished beyond measure and felt my anger slowly rising. The pace did not slacken; rather it increased, yet never for an instant did our positions vary an inch. Through woods and over hills we flew. The perspiration rolled off my forehead and into my eyes until they smarted, yet the stranger gave no signs of distress. A heart breaking hill loomed ahead and I summoned energy for a supreme effort. My wheel swayed and shivered under the strain as I shot up the incline, but my companion never faltered. When we reached the summit he was still gliding at my side, like a shadow. A steep descent followed and we rushed down at unabated speed.

      I looked ahead and perceived several hundred yards in advance a small lake which the road encircled after an abrupt turn to the right. I also perceived that a narrow foot-bridge devoid of hand rail crossed the pond where the highway curved. I glanced at the strange rider. His gaze seemed bent upon the ground, as though he were oblivious of any impending danger. The situation was becoming critical. We could never make the turn at the speed at which we were traveling, yet the grade was so steep and the distance so short that to slow down was impossible. To cross the bridge was the only chance, yet there was room for but one abreast and who would give way? Dogged and angry, I resolved that I would not. Fifty yards mere and we would be upon it. I bent. lower and rode like a demon. Twenty-five yards and I had gained not an inch.

      "Give way," I called hoarsely and I gripped my bars until it seemed as if the steel must crumble in my fingers. Five yards more and then disaster must come. Suddenly the stranger shot out and with a clatter and never a check in our furious career we were upon the narrow structure, my wheel lapping his by several inches.

      Then to my horror the black rider sat erect and slackened speed. I yelled with terror and back pedaled until my chain screeched and groaned over the sprocket as though it would part. The wheels now lapped by a foot and the crash would be in an instant. I remember seeing the black rider turn and sway in his saddle like a drunken man, there was the flash of a ghastly white face and I shut my eyes and waited for the shock.

      Loose boards rattled under my wheel, there was a jolt and I felt myself shoot out upon the road. I glanced back. There in the cold, white moonlight was the marshy lake, the narrow footbridge, the nodding trees. Nothing more. The black rider had vanished.

      A wild terror seized me. How I reached the hotel I could never afterward remember, for I went over the same road two days afterward and it was utterly strange to me. All I recall is that I reeled into the yard. Then there was a blank until I found myself lying on a bench with a curious crowd of men gathered around me.

      "You fellers always ride fit ter kill yerselves," said a man. "What? You came over the little bridge? There was a city feller drowned in that pond one night last summer. We found him and his wheel in three foot of water th' next day."