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There were masterly arrangements regarding leaving the key, and having the gasoline tank filled; and passionately, devotees of the Great God Motor, they hymned the patch on the spare inner-tube, and the lost jack-handle. Their truce dissolving, Ted observed that her friends were "a scream of a bunch-stuck-up gabby four-flushers."

There was an ordinary inner-tube valve projecting from one side by which the case could be charged with compressed air to compensate for the pressure of the water. The unit was battery-powered and had a bracket for mounting the infrared light used for night photography. He unscrewed the front of the case and took the camera from its mount. He hesitated.

Finding the cut in the inner-tube was simple enough; the moonlight alone would have shown it. He held it up for her to look at and she shook her head and sighed. But making the patch so that it would hold was another matter; and pumping up the tire when the job was done was still another, and required time and ate up all of Terry's rather inconsiderable amount of patience.

While he was getting the inner-tube out, squatting in front of her car so as to work in the glow from her headlights, she was rummaging through her repair kit. "These rocky roads, you know, and the way I drive." He laughed. "The way she drove!" That meant, "Like the devil!" as he would put it.