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The Wheels of Chance-Part2_H. G. WELLS (1866-1946)_English Literature(文学名著)-第2页

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the machine stopped dead. He was trying to think what he did with



his right leg whilst getting off. He gripped the handles and

released the brake, standing on the left pedal and waving his



right foot in the air. Then--these things take so long in the

telling--he found the machine was falling over to the right.



While he was deciding upon a plan of action, gravitation appears

to have been busy. He was still irresolute when he found the



machine on the ground, himself kneeling upon it, and a vague

feeling in his mind that again Providence had dealt harshly with



his shin. This happened when he was just level with the

heathkeeper. The man in the approaching cart stood up to see the



ruins better.

"THAT ain't the way to get off," said the heathkeeper.



Mr. Hoopdriver picked up the machine. The handle was twisted

askew again He said something under his breath. He would have to



unscrew the beastly thing.

"THAT ain't the way to get off," repeated the heathkeeper, after



a silence.

"_I_ know that," said Mr. Hoopdriver, testily, determined to



overlook the new specimen on his shin at any cost. He unbuckled

the wallet behind the saddle, to get out a screw hammer.



"If you know it ain't the way to get off--whaddyer do it for?"

said the heath-keeper, in a tone of friendly controversy.



Mr. Hoopdriver got out his screw hammer and went to the handle.

He was annoyed. "That's my business, I suppose," he said,



fumbling with the screw. The unusualexertion had made his hands

shake frightfully.



The heath-keeper became meditative, and twisted his stick in his

hands behind his back. "You've broken yer 'andle, ain't yer?" he



said presently. Just then the screw hammer slipped off the nut.

Mr. Hoopdriver used a nasty, low word.



"They're trying things, them bicycles," said the heath-keeper,

charitably. "Very trying." Mr. Hoopdriver gave the nut a vicious



turn and suddenly stood up--he was holding the front wheel

between his knees. "I wish," said he, with a catch in his voice,



"I wish you'd leave off staring at me."

Then with the air of one who has delivered an ultimatum, he began



replacing the screw hammer in the wallet.

The heath-keeper never moved. Possibly he raised his eyebrows,



and certainly he stared harder than he did before. "You're pretty

unsociable," he said slowly, as Mr. Hoopdriver seized the handles



and stood ready to mount as soon as the cart had passed.

The indignation gathered slowly but surely. "Why don't you ride



on a private road of your own if no one ain't to speak to you?"

asked the heath-keeper, perceiving more and more clearly the



bearing of the matter. "Can't no one make a passin' remark to

you, Touchy? Ain't I good enough to speak to you? Been struck



wooden all of a sudden?"

Mr. Hoopdriver stared into the Immensity of the Future. He was



rigid with emotion. It was like abusing the Lions in Trafalgar

Square. But the heathkeeper felt his honour was at stake.



"Don't you make no remarks to 'IM," said the keeper as the carter

came up broadside to them. "'E's a bloomin' dook, 'e is. 'E don't



converse with no one under a earl. 'E's off to Windsor, 'e is;

that's why 'e's stickin' his be'ind out so haughty. Pride! Why,



'e's got so much of it, 'e has to carry some of it in that there

bundle there, for fear 'e'd bust if 'e didn't ease hisself a bit-



-'E--"

But Mr. Hoopdriver heard no more. He was hopping vigorously along



the road, in a spasmodic attempt to remount.He missed the treadle

once and swore viciously, to the keeper's immense delight. "Nar!



Nar!" said the heath-keeper.

In another moment Mr. Hoopdriver was up, and after one terrific



lurch of the machine, the heathkeeper dropped out of earshot.

Mr. Hoopdriver would have liked to look back at his enemy, but he



usually twisted round and upset if he tried that.

He had to imagine the indignant heath-keeper telling the carter



all about it. He tried to infuse as much disdain aspossible into

his retreating aspect.



He drove on his sinuous way down the dip by the new mere and up

the little rise to the crest of the hill that drops into Kingston



Vale; and so remarkable is the psychology of cycling, that he

rode all the straighter and easier because the emotions the



heathkeeper had aroused relieved his mind of the constant




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