Then the lost June came back. Frost melted out of the air, summer melted in, and my book beckoned me onward with a commanding gesture. Consequently I took my trunk, Halicarnassus his cane, and we started on our travels. But the shadow of the eclipse hung over us still. An evil omen came in the beginning. Just as I was stepping into the car, I observed a violent smoke issuing from under it. I started back in alarm. "They are only getting up steam," said Halicarnassus. "Always do, when they start." "I know better!" I answered briskly, for there was no time to be circumlocutional. "They don't get up steam under the cars." "Why not? Bet a sixpence you couldn't get Uncle Cain's Dobbin out of his jog-trot without building a fire under him." "I know that wheel is on fire," I said, not to be turned from the direct and certain line of assertion into the winding ways of argument. "No matter," replied Halicarnassus, conceding everything, "we are insured." Upon the strength of which consolatory information I went in. By and by a man entered and took a seat in front of us. "The box is all afire," chuckled he to his neighbor, as if it were a fine joke. By and by several people who had been looking out of the windows drew in their heads, went into the next car. "What do you suppose they did that for?" I asked Halicarnassus. "More aristocratical. Belong to old families. This is a new car, don't you see? We are parvenus." "Nothing of the sort," I rejoined. "This car is on fire, and they have gone into the next one so as not to be burned up." "They are not going to write books, and can afford to run away from adventures." "But suppose I am burned up in my adventure?" "Obviously, then, your book will end in smoke."