under the car, and the turnout swayed to one side of the road.
Phil threw out the clutch and put on the brakes, and they came to a
standstill. Then the driver shut off the engine.

"What is the matter?" queried Jessie.

"A blow-out, I guess," answered Dave. "We'll soon see."

Dunston Porter and the boys got down to the ground and made an
examination. The shoe of the rear left wheel had been badly cut by the
sharp stones and the inner tube had been blown out through the cut.

"We'll have to put on one of the other shoes," said Mr. Porter. They
carried two with them, besides half a dozen inner tubes.

"All right, here is where we get to work!" cried Dave. "Somebody time
us, please," and he started in by getting off his coat and cuffs and
donning a working jumper. His uncle quickly followed suit, while Phil
and Roger got out the lifting-jack and some tools.

The girls stood watching the proceedings for a while and then strolled
back towards the farmhouse. The boys and Mr. Porter became so
engrossed in putting on a new inner tube and a shoe that they did not
notice their absence. The new shoe fitted the rim of the wheel rather
tightly and they had all they could do to get it into place.

"Phew! this is work and no mistake!" murmured Roger. "I wonder why
they can't get tires that won't blow out or go down."

"Maybe some day they will have them," answered Dunston Porter.

"I reckon this is all my fault," put in Phil, ruefully. "I must have
gone over some extra sharp stone, and it cut like a knife."

"Oh, such accidents are liable to happen to anybody," answered Dave.
He looked at his watch. "Twenty-five minutes, and we haven't blown it
up yet! No record job this time."

"Thank fortune we've got a patent pump to do the pumping for us,"
remarked his uncle. Pumping tires by hand he found a very disagreeable
task.

At last the shoe and tube were in place and the pump was set in
motion. Dave watched the gauge, and when it was high enough he shut
off the air. The tools were put away, and they were ready to go on
again.

"The girls went back to that farmhouse," said the senator's son,
pointing to a small cottage.

"Let us run back and pick them up, and wash our hands at the well."

Once in front of the house, Dunston Porter, who was at the wheel,
sounded the horn. At the same time the boys made for the well, which
stood between the house and one of the barns.

"Maybe the girls went inside," remarked Dave, as he lo