I believe we
should never have got out, and it would have been there still, if we had
not heard a scream from a siren, and our American friend tore up again! It
was pitch dark by now, and the valet, the chauffeur, and Uncle John were
shoving and straining, and nothing was happening. Why he was returning this
way, right out of the main road, he did not explain, but he jumped out and
in a minute took command of the situation. He said, "If we had taken a
waggon over the desert, we'd know how to fix up this in a shake." He sent
his chauffeur back to the nearest village for some boards and a shovel, and
then dug out to firm ground and got the boards under, all so neatly and
quickly, and no one thought of disobeying him! And we were soon all packed
into the car again none the worse. Then he said he also found he was
obliged to go back and would show us the way as far as we liked. Uncle John
was so grateful, and we started.
Tonnerre was all as far as we could get to-night, and about six o'clock we
arrived at this hotel I am writing from.
Mr. Horatio Thomas Nelson Renour was a few yards in front of us. "Say, Lord
Wordon," he said to Uncle John, "I guess this is no kind of a place your
ladies have been accustomed to, but it's probably pretty decent in spite of
appearances.
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