Thus, with at least an hour’s loss, Number 10, or 11, or 12 of the Nicest Men We Ever Met towed us to the nearest ranch, and there telephoned for help. How welcome were the rattletrap ex-racer, and blue-overalled mechanic with a smudge on his left cheek who came to a dashing stop opposite our machine,--the same mechanic we had despised yesterday for forgetting to fill our greasecups,--I was tempted to paraphrase Goldsmith, or somebody, “Garageman, in thine hours of ease Uncertain, coy, and hard to please, But seen too oft, familiar with thy face We first endure, then pity, then embrace!” Smudge and all, we nearly embraced him when he took apart and put together the whole ignition system, and came out even. Presently, at the heart of that tightly closed metal box, on a tiny point hardly larger than a needle he discovered a few grains of sand, memento of our last sandstorm. Like the blood clot which strikes down robust men, it had stopped a ton of mechanism from functioning. Philosophizing thus, we idly watched the mechanic put together those intricate parts, little realizing how useful the experience would prove later. It was part of the odd luck which from beginning to end followed us that our breakdown happened before we had re-entered the isolated Apache Trail, with its breakneck grades. Still, our adventure delayed us, until on entering the pass with its looming mountains and wild gorges shutting us away from the world, darkness had closed in around us,--the pitch-black of a wilderness night. Ahead lay the famed Fish Creek road, fairly terrifying a week ago when we climbed it in broad daylight. Now, in the dark, we were to descend this dizzy corkscrew which dropped a thousand feet in a mile and a quarter. One lamp gave only a feeble light, but the other threw a magnificent steady glare which pierced the loneliness of that jumble of crags and forests far below us. Would our brakes hold, and would our nerves obey us? Though I felt cool, I admit to gripping the steering-wheel harder than good driving required. From Toby’s direction came a funny noise. “I just remembered Mother’s last words,” she explained. We both laughed, though feebly, at the perennial joke.