nd
nearly over and we were not yet a third of the way. I pressed on
recklessly, and that hurry was our undoing.

I have said that the Studebaker was a rotten old car. Its
steering-gear was pretty dicky, and the bad surface and continual
hairpin bends of the road didn't improve it. Soon we came into snow
lying fairly deep, frozen hard and rutted by the big transport-wagons.
We bumped and bounced horribly, and were shaken about like peas in a
bladder. I began to be acutely anxious about the old boneshaker, the
more as we seemed a long way short of the village I had proposed to
spend the night in. Twilight was falling and we were still in an
unfeatured waste, crossing the shallow glen of a stream. There was a
bridge at the bottom of a slope--a bridge of logs and earth which had
apparently been freshly strengthened for heavy traffic. As we
approached it at a good pace the car ceased to answer to the wheel.

I struggled desperately to keep it straight, but it swerved to the left
and we plunged over a bank into a marshy hollow. There was a sickening
bump as we struck the lower ground, and the whole party were shot out
into the frozen slush. I don't yet know how I escaped, for the car
turned over and by rights I should have had my back broken. But no one
was hurt. Peter was laughing, and Blenkiron, after shaking the snow
out of his hair, joined him. For myself I was feverishly examining the
machine. It was about as ugly as it could be, for the front axle was
broken.

Here was a piece of hopeless bad luck. We were stuck in the middle of
Asia Minor with no means of conveyance, for to get a new axle there was
as likely as to find snowballs on the Congo. It was all but dark and
there was no time to lose. I got out the petrol tins and spare tyres
and cached them among some rocks on the hillside. Then we collected
our scanty baggage from the derelict Studebaker. Our only hope was
Hussin. He had got to find us some lodging for the night, and next day
we would have a try for horses or a lift in some passing wagon. I had
no hope of another car. Every automobile in Anatolia would now be at a
premium.

It was so disgusting a mishap that we all took it quietly. It was too
bad to be helped by hard swearing. Hussin and Peter set off on
different sides of the road to prospect for a house, and Blenkiron and
I sheltered under the nearest rock and smoked savagely.

Hussin was the first to strike oil. He came back in