"I'm afraid you have," I answered, laughing. "But I'll see what can be done."
I crawled underneath the car, taking the attitude that has now become classic, and saw that it would be a case of fastening in a new link. I backed out, looked in my tool-box and found that there were no extra links there.
"I can't mend the thing here," I explained. "You and the doctor will have to get out and walk and leave me here. You'd better send some one back with a horse to tow me home."
She almost cried with shame and regret, but there was nothing for it but to do as I had suggested. I noticed a faint smile on the doctor's thin face. He was undoubtedly glad of the dilemma, as it would temporarily rid him of my company.
"It's too bad I can't sew it up for you," he said dryly. "I'm afraid it will require a capital operation, Castle. You'd better have a consultation with Uncle Jerdon. But if you need any anesthetic to keep it out of pain while you're waiting, I'll lend you my bag."
"Oh, my machine is used to it, you know," I replied. "If you'll only send back the coroner it'll be all right."
"Well, we'll hope for a change soon," he said. I verily believe the man meant it for a pun, for he closed one eye as he got it off. Edna giggled.
So they set out and left me. I took a seat, lighted a cigar, and waited as patiently as I could, not at all pleased at the thought of his having a free hour or two with her. At last Uncle Jerdon appeared on the scene, driving a span of horses.
"Hello," he greeted me. "The same old, sweet song, eh? Well, we all have to come to it, sooner or later. You ought to lead a hoss behind when you go. I'd as soon trust to an airship."
He harnessed his team to the car, and we proceeded slowly home. It was a humiliating experience, as it always is, but Uncle Jerdon was plainly hugely amused at my predicament.