e, fall down _and_ git up," said Jim.

Shortly after this joyous _rencontre_ we topped the rise, and, looking
back, could realize the grade we had been ascending.

The road led white and straight as an arrow to dwindle in perspective to
a mere thread. The little car leaped forward on the invisible down
grade. Again I anchored myself to one of the top supports. A long, rangy
fowl happened into the road just ahead of us, but immediately flopped
clumsily, half afoot, half a-wing, to one side in the brush, like a
stampeded hen.

"Road runner," said Bill, with a short laugh. "Remember how they used to
rack along in front of a hoss for miles, keeping just ahead, lettin' out
a link when you spurred up? Aggravatin' fowl! They got over tryin' to
keep ahead of gasoline."

In the white alkaline road lay one lone, pyramidal rock. It was about
the size of one's two fists and all its edges and corners were sharp.
Probably twenty miles of clear space lay on either flank of that rock.
Nevertheless, our right front wheel hit it square in the middle. The car
leaped straight up, the rock popped sidewise, and the tire went off with
a mighty bang. Bill put on the brakes, deliberately uncoiled himself,
and descended.

"Seems like tires don't last no time at all in this country," he
remarked, sadly. He walked around the car and began to examine the four
wrecks he carried as spares. After some inspection of their respective
merits, he selected one. "I just somehow kain't git over the notion she
ought to sidestep them little rocks and holes of her own accord," he
exclaimed. "A hoss is a plumb, narrow-minded critter, but he knows
enough for that."

While he changed the tire--which incidentally involved patching one of
half a dozen over-worn tubes--I looked her over more in detail. The
customary frame, strut rods, and torsion rods had been supplemented by
the most extraordinary criss-cross of angle-iron braces it has ever been
my fortune to behold. They ran from anywhere to everywhere beneath that
car. I began to comprehend her cohesiveness.

"Jim Coles, blacksmith at the O T, puts them braces in all our cars,"
explained Bill. "He's got her down to a system."

The repair finished and the radiator refilled we resumed the journey. It
was now just eleven o'clock. The odometer reading was 29,276. The
temperature was well up toward 100 degrees. But beneath the disreputable
top, and while in motion, the heat was not noticeable. Nevertheless, t