They drove slowly, until satisfied that the coupling was sufficient, and then headed for Tonto City at their usual pace, which was a cross between a harness race and a runaway. They heard Slim yelling to Henry to stay on the road, but paid no attention. At the foot of the grade they stopped for inspection. Slim said wearily, “I’m shore glad yuh stopped. Every time we tried to take a drink out of the jug--we can’t. Man, I never rode in anything as rough as this buckboard. Oscar’s very sick.” “Ay am sea-sick,” gasped Oscar. “Some-t’ing is wrong vit us.” The buckboard seemed intact, unmarked. Henry and Frijole lighted matches and looked things over. Slim asked, “What’s wrong with it, Frijole?” “Not a blamed thing. Cork up that jug--we’re travelin’.” “I dunno,” said Slim. “I’ve rode a lot of things in m’ life, but this’n has got em all beat. How are yuh, Oscar?” “Viggly,” whispered Oscar. They drove on. Frijole was chuckling, and Henry said, “What is so funny?” “That buckboard,” choked the little cook. “We got a hind wheel and a front wheel on each end. No wonder Oscar feels viggly!” “My goodness!” exclaimed Henry. “Hadn’t we better remedy that?” “No. It can’t hurt anythin’--except their feelin’s. Keep goin’.” There was no moon, and a slight overcast ruined the starlight for illumination. Henry had to trust to the team entirely. On the first sharp turn they felt a decided jerk, and heard a crash. The team stopped short, when Henry applied the brake. “W’ere de ha’al do you t’ink you are going?” wailed Oscar. “I see!” grunted Henry. “Sharp turn, and the buckboard did not make it in time. Hm-m-m-m!” Oscar and Slim were scratching matches at the buckboard, and Slim came up to report, “You almost knocked the hubs off both wheels, scratched the body and some of the spokes pretty bad.” “I shall try and do better on the next one,” promised Henry. “Yeah,” said Slim, “you do that. Yuh can roll when ready.” As they started on Henry said, “I shall swing wider on the next curve, Frijole.” “Could yuh see where yuh swung?” asked Frijole. “No, I could not, but I’ll swing wider next time.” “Not with me on this side--yuh won’t. Even in the dark I could look straight down into that canyon, and I seen a eagle’s nest with six aigs in it.” “Well, I don’t want to knock _all_ the paint off that vehicle.” Frijole had taken the jug from the buckboard, and now he drew out the cork. They were on an upgrade, and at the top was the worst jack-knife curve on the whole road. Frijole said, “Have a snort, Henry--it might cushion yore fall.” Henry shoved on the brake very tight and stopped the team. “Cushion my fall!” he snorted. “The idea!” “The idea is good,” said Frijole. “That curve ain’t twenty feet ahead, and I don’t believe we’ll make it--not in this dark. That buckboard won’t swing far enough. Mebbe we better untie it and take it around by hand.”