As we wobbled our serpentine way through the streets, fortunately nearly empty at that early hour, it seemed to me that this was the strangest nightmare that ever vexed the soul of woman. There was a weird beauty in the morning light, the breath of freedom in the gentle breeze. The spirit of adventure rode with us. I had a feeling of detachment from earthly things while realising to the full the perils and difficulties of the venture. An ash can in the street caught my eye. With incredible accuracy I headed for it. “Hi!” cried Dan, “look where you’re going.” “Good gracious,” I answered desperately, “that’s just what I’m trying not to do.” Bang! Quite a spill, but no harm done luckily. When we reached Humboldt Park, we decided to take a short rest. Propping our machine against the curb, we sat on a bench beneath a tree. While aimlessly poking the litter at its base with my toe, I saw something glitter. “Look, Dan!” I exulted. “See what I’ve found. Talk of manna in the wilderness.” I held up a silver dollar, a half and two dimes. “I feel sure it is an omen.” “Yes, an omen of fresh eggs for breakfast to-morrow morning,” replied Dan prosaically. Once again we were off. The day wore on. Streets gave way to dusty roads full of ruts, into which the wheel appeared possessed to stagger. Dust rose; sweat poured; our throats ached with unquenchable thirst. My arms seemed wrenched from their sockets. Human endurance reached its limit as the sun set. Wearily we searched for a camping place. Finally, in a grassy hollow, screened from the road by trees, we unpacked our equipment. While Dan took the potato kettle to a near-by house for water, I set up our wire rack and kindled a tiny fire beneath. After a meal which we were almost too tired to eat, we spread our scanty bedding on the ground and composed ourselves for slumber. An owl settled on a branch near our heads and surveyed us with amazement. Back and forth he flew, studying the strange intruders from every angle. Then with a “hoot” of protest and derision, he winged away to attend to the business of the evening. “Ugh, this ground is hard,” grunted Dan. “And none too warm,” thought I, but neither cold nor discomfort could prevail for long against our utter exhaustion. I sat up with a start. A grey day was breaking; the trees rustled in a wind that moaned and muttered with chilly breath. Big drops of rain beat on my face. “Quick, Dan, get up!” I cried to the snoring partner of my dreams. “It’s going to pour down rain in a few minutes.”