I added an arrow to point the direction. And then, to make sure that my sign was noticed, I placed a few sharp stones in the ruts. These would probably puncture his tire, and in looking for the cause, he would observe our appeal and come to our rescue. It took a long while to collect enough white stones to make the sign, but when I had finished I felt much elated, and more kindly toward Toby for reading the guide book right when she should have read it wrong. It was cooler walking back, though my tongue was swollen with thirst. Our canteen had displayed a leak only yesterday, and we had tossed it into the sagebrush. At the windmill I found the car partly jacked up, so that she careened drunkenly to one side, but her right dashboard was now above water. Toby’s skirt was caked with mud, and her shoes and stockings plastered with it. She seemed depressed. She explained she had slipped trying to balance on a plank, and had fallen in the chuck-hole. “This pool is full of dead cattle,” she said, dolefully. “I just put my finger in something’s eye.” About to take off shoes and stockings and wade into the pool, something gave me pause. Gingerly we stood on the brink, and poked planks where the mud was thickest, in the forlorn hope of making a stable bottom. Alas, they only sank, and vexed us by protruding on end whenever we tried to back the old lady. We knew the first step was to jack the rear wheels, but while we raised one wheel, the other sank so deep in the mud that we could get neither plank nor jack under it. After many embittered attempts we gave it up, and tried placing the jack under the springs. It worked beautifully; in a few seconds the body of the car was a foot higher, and seemed willing to continue her soaring indefinitely. We took turns jacking; still she rose. We were greatly encouraged. After several minutes Toby said, “The jack’s at the top notch,--what shall I do next?” It was so easy we might have guessed there was a catch somewhere. To our astonishment we discovered that in rising, the body of the car had not taken the wheels with it. Two feet of daylight gaped between mudguard and wheels. A moment more, and the two would have parted company forever. Jacking is easy in theory, or in a garage, but the trouble with the outdoor art is that the car usually lands in a position where it has to be jacked up in order to get planks under it in order to jack it up. “Pou sto,” said Archimedes, defining our dilemma succinctly.