She tiptoed to the tool-box and took out a folding canvas bucket. She
edged down to the trickling stream below. She was miserably conscious of
a pastoral scene all gone to mildew--cows beneath willows by the creek,
milkweeds dripping, dried mullein weed stalks no longer dry. The bank of
the stream was so slippery that she shot down two feet, and nearly went
sprawling. Her knee did touch the bank, and the skirt of her gray
sports-suit showed a smear of yellow earth.
In less than two miles the racing motor had used up so much water that
she had to make four trips to the creek before she had filled the
radiator. When she had climbed back on the running-board she glared down
at spats and shoes turned into gray lumps. She was not tearful. She was
angry.
"Idiot! Ought to have put on my rubbers. Well--too late now," she
observed, as she started the engine.
She again followed the swastika tread. To avoid a hole in the road
ahead, the unknown driver had swung over to the side of the road, and
taken to the intensely black earth of the edge of an unfenced cornfield.
Flashing at Claire came the sight of a deep, water-filled hole,
scattered straw and brush, débris of a battlefield, which made her
gaspingly realize that her swastikaed leader had been stuck and-And instantly her own car was stuck.
She had had to put the car at that hole. It dropped, far down, and it
stayed down. The engine stalled. She started it, but the back wheels
spun merrily round and round, without traction. She did not make one
inch. When she again killed the blatting motor, she let it stay dead.
She peered at her father.
He was not a father, just now, but a passenger trying not to irritate
the driver. He smiled in a waxy way, and said, "Hard luck! Well, you did
the best you could. The other hole, there in the road, would have been
just as bad. You're a fine driver, dolly."
Her smile was warm and real. "No. I'm a fool. You told me to put on
chains. I didn't. I deserve it."
"Well, anyway, most men would be cussing. You acquire merit by not
beating me. I believe that's done, in moments like this. If you'd like,
I'll get out and crawl around in the mud, and play turtle for you."
"No. I'm quite all right. I did feel frightfully strong-minded as long
as there was any use of it. It kept me going. But now I might just as
well be cheerful, because we're stuck, and we're probably going to stay
stuck for the rest of this care-free summer day."