d into a rut like the back door to China or--to the
home of that over-painted gentleman inadvertently mentioned.

We've all learned in Latin how easy is the descent to the _second_
abode, but if we hadn't had it sufficiently impressed on our young minds
how difficult it is to get out again, we should have had an object
lesson watching the Wilmot. Will-_not_ would have been a better name, if
you don't mind a pun, for it simply wouldn't and--_didn't_. There it
was, stuck in ruts of sand worse than Jack and I ever said bad words
about in the Sahara. Ed Caspian and his chauffeur did what the German
Kaiser used to say he'd do to win a Cowes yacht race--his damnedest. The
engine groaned and snorted. You could almost see sweat starting from
every valve. Nothing doing but noise! Naturally we were all delighted,
because pride and falls go so well together when they're other
people's; while as for the poor Hippopotamus, it looked _weeks_
younger, in a minute!

Finally, in the midst of a roar that would have turned an elephant green
with envy, the Wilmot's teeth were torn from their sockets--I mean the
gears were stripped. That was the end; and all our men, looking
hypercritically helpful, ran to the rescue. But there wasn't any rescue.
When everything good had been tried and everything bad said, we had to
leave. The Wilmot was left to the mercy of the mosquitoes. Ed Caspian
was taken aboard the good ship Grayles-Grice, and Jack and I adopted the
chauffeur. Our cars backed out of the worst ruts, and it was a long time
before we could turn. There, on the way to Montauk Point, the Wilmot
remains to this hour, for it was too late to do anything when we got
home to the hotel. I wouldn't "put it past" those mosquitoes to suck off
all the paint in the night!

Just here in my budget I was interrupted. Pat tiptoed into the
sitting-room, spying my rose-light on the balcony, and whispering my
name like a password.

I told you, didn't I, that there was pretty sure to be news at half-past
midnight? There _is_--such funny news, entirely different from what I
expected!

Peter Storm and Ed Caspian both got telegrams. Peter Storm couldn't
understand his. It said, "Can't recall him immediately, but will day
after to-morrow. Most inconvenient to have him here now. This will give
you one clear day to try your hand on other car."

The mysterious message was signed "L. Shuster," and it was given to
Peter as he was about to dance with Pat (it se