My chauffeur kept me waiting, but my friend the alderman was on time.
Finally the motor made its appearance. Something had happened on
leaving St. Paul in the morning and the poor _hotelier_ had searched the
entire city for a mechanic, but to no avail. All were _au service de
l'armee_. Finally he had had to patch up things as best he could. As
to an extra inner tube--such a thing didn't exist. We would have to take
our chances with the wheel he had.

We started, but hadn't gone two hundred yards when a back tire blew off!

Well, thank goodness, we hadn't left town. So I returned to the hotel,
and while Huberson and the alderman were fixing up damages and adjusting
the emergency wheel, I had time to read all the back numbers of
_Illustration,_ which the _Soled d'Or_ possessed, and commence a
conversation with the proprietress, who sat in the court shelling peas
for dinner. She was certain that the war would be over in three months
at the utmost!

At length I went out to see if I couldn't be of some assistance in the
motor business, but Huberson said it would be ready in a few moments. As
far as I could make out, my alderman friend was mostly a decorative
personality, for he stood there with his hat on the back of his head,
gesticulating vehemently, but never deigning to help my chauffeur in the
slightest manner. When I asked him if he knew Soissons well and
inquired if he could direct me to certain grocers where I could perhaps
obtain a few provisions, he insisted on showing me the shops, with an
alacrity which proved his incompetence at motor repairing.

During that short promenade on foot, we encountered the whole Ninth