On examination, the shank of the steering-head was found to
contain two large flaws, which reduced its strength more than
one-half, and the surprising thing was that it had not parted long
before, when subjected to much severer strains.

This was a break that no man could repair on the road. Under
pressure of circumstances the steering-head could have been taken
to the nearest blacksmith shop and a weld made, but that would
require time, and the results would be more than doubtful. By far
the easier thing to do was to wire the factory for a new head and
patiently wait its coming.

Happily, we landed in the hands of a retired farmer, whose
generous hospitality embraced our tired selves as well as the
machine.

Before supper a telegram was sent from Brainerd to the factory for
a new steering-head.

While waiting inside for the operator to finish selling tickets
for the one evening train about to arrive, a curious crowd
gathered outside about my host, and the questions asked were
plainly audible; the names are fictitious.

"What'r ye down t' the stashun fur this hur o' day, Joe?"

"Broke my new aut'mobile," carelessly replied my host, flicking a
fly off the nigh side of his horse.