“Let’s go and see how badly the car is damaged,” suggested Mr. Martin. “Perhaps it can be repaired so we can go on.”
“It will need a new wheel,” answered the lumberman. “I think one can be sent on from the factory, or the nearest supply house, but it will take several days. It’s too bad!”
“It couldn’t have been helped, I suppose,” said Mr. Martin, as, with his wife and children, he walked toward his car. “I shouldn’t have left it there.”
“The tree was taller than any of us thought,” said the lumberman. “The end of it stuck out farther than we calculated, and it was just the tip of it that hit your front wheel.”
It did not take more than a glance from Mr. Martin to tell him that he could not continue touring in his auto—at least, until a new wheel was secured.
“If only the tire or the rim had been broken, we could have managed,” he said. “For we carry a spare tire and rim. But I haven’t an extra wheel.”
“We’ll get you one,” offered Mr. Birch. “It was the fault of our company that your wheel was broken, and we’ll pay for a new one. I’ll telegraph and have one sent on from Blissville at once. There is a branch agency there that keeps parts for your car.”
“Don’t worry about it,” said Mr. Martin. “It can’t be helped now. I am glad no one was hurt. There is no great hurry about our tour—a few days’ wait will not matter.”
But it would take more than a few days to supply a new wheel for the one broken on the auto, it was found out. The agency was out of wheels for the kind of car Mr. Martin owned, and it would be necessary to send to Michigan for one. This would take about two weeks, stated the telegram that came in reply to the one Mr. Birch had sent.
“Do you think we want to stay in this lumber camp two weeks more?” asked Mrs. Martin of her husband.