Then we came to a nightmare of a road, very steeply graded and with loose hard clods about 3 feet deep on the top. These nearly knocked the bottom out of the engine, so I had to drive on the side at an incredible angle, expecting every moment to be overturned, though my companions were steadying the van with might and main, the one hanging on to one side, and the other propping up on the other. Every now and then we had to stop and unload, or else we must have capsised. We arrived at Kindersley about 2.30 a.m., and found Mr. and Mrs. W. still waiting up for us with a splendid supper prepared, to which we did full justice. About four in the morning a tremendous thunderstorm came on. I woke up with a start and suddenly remembered that I hadn't covered up the engine, so I scurried out to do so, otherwise my sparking plugs would have been ruined and the whole of the engine flooded. The difficulty was to keep the tarpaulin on, as there was always a big wind. I made up my mind that another year the engine should have a proper mackintosh cover to clip on. We could not start for another twelve hours because the trails were so heavy after the storm. The Chautauqua had reached Kindersley now. The big brown tent was pitched just opposite the vicarage and I heard the singing, but had no time to go to any of the lectures, unfortunately. We did not leave for Rosetown till 4 p.m., but we arrived there at 9 p.m., a seventy mile run. The next day (Sunday) we went on to Dinsmore, where the vicar lived whom we had met before at Bounty. We had not been able to hear from him, but knew he expected us to take a Sunday School and address parents somewhere in his district that afternoon. We started about noon, but lost our way, and when we inquired at a farm were wrongly directed, so we did not get to Dinsmore till 2.30. Just as we were entering the town we got on to a rough trail with a lot of big clods. A front wheel struck one of these and badly bent the steering-rod, which made it very difficult to steer the van, as it kept veering towards the left of the trail all the time. When we reached the vicarage we found the vicar had gone, but I knew that he had a service at Surbiton on Sunday afternoons and so asked the way there. The caravan got more and more difficult to steer. I tried to straighten the steering-rod with a tyre iron, but it was not strong enough. Then we came to a creek where there had been a bad wash-out, and a board up across the trail said "No road." But I noticed that cars had been going over the creek a little to the right, which meant going down a hill like the side of a house, over the stream, and up an equally steep hill on the other side. One needs to steer particularly well on these occasions, but I had to risk it and got across somehow.