All day long the Comet had been plodding faithfully, and although he did not know it, and his five mistresses did not know it, it was really uphill work. Very gradual uphill work, only at the rate of ten feet a mile as they went westward, but the Comet was tired.
For the last fifteen miles Billie had noticed a complaining, whining little sound in his interior mechanism, but she urged him on with the mercilessness of one who drives machines, for they must reach a certain small village that night, which the map purported to be still ten miles distant.
About them, as far as the human eye could see, and many, many miles farther still where the human eye could not reach, rolled an infinite stretch of prairie. Like a misty, blue sea it spread before them. Here and there were groups of cattle grazing, and far back along the road they could see a black speck which they took to be a human being.
The five travelers were no longer homesick, and they were not tired. The peace of the plains had entered into their souls, and when the Comet suddenly gave an exhausted croak and stopped short, they exchanged good-natured smiles as if it were the commonest thing in the world for five lonely ladies from the East to be stranded on a Western plateau.
“There’s a screw loose somewhere,” said Billie calmly, jumping out and looking critically at the outer workings of the car. “Ladies, I must ask you to descend while I take a look at the Comet’s organs. His heart beats are not regular and his liver seems to be very torpid. The truth is, I think his condition is run down.”
“I should think it would be,” observed Miss Campbell, stepping nimbly to the ground. “Since eight this morning he’s been running it down.”
“There’s a screw loose somewhere,” said Billie.