He is not enough of a mechanic to reflect that the eight horse-power is demonstrated in the carrying of a ton over average roads one hundred and fifty miles in ten hours, something eight horses could not possibly do.
Just as we were entering the valley of Lebanon, beyond the village of Brainerd, while going down a slight descent, my Companion exclaimed,-- "The wheel is coming off." I threw out the clutch, applied the brake, looked, and saw the left front wheel roll gracefully and quite deliberately out from under the big metal mud guard; the carriage settled down at that corner, and the end of the axle ploughed a furrow in the road for a few feet, when we came to a stop.
The steering-head had broken short off at the inside of the hub.
We were not going very fast at the time, and the heavy metal mud guard which caught the wheel, acting as a huge brake, saved us from a bad smash.
On examination, the shank of the steering-head was found to contain two large flaws, which reduced its strength more than one-half, and the surprising thing was that it had not parted long before, when subjected to much severer strains.
This was a break that no man could repair on the road.

Under pressure of circumstances the steering-head could have been taken to the nearest blacksmith shop and a weld made, but that would require time, and the results would be more than doubtful.

By far the easier thing to do was to wire the factory for a new head and patiently wait its coming.
Happily, we landed in the hands of a retired farmer, whose generous hospitality embraced our tired selves as well as the machine.
Before supper a telegram was sent from Brainerd to the factory for a new steering-head.
While waiting inside for the operator to finish selling tickets for the one evening train about to arrive, a curious crowd gathered outside about my host, and the questions asked were plainly audible; the names are fictitious.
"What'r ye down t' the stashun fur this hur o' day, Joe ?" "Broke my new aut'mobile," carelessly replied my host, flicking a fly off the nigh side of his horse.
"Shu!" "What'r given us ?" "Git out--" "You ain't got no aut'mobile," chorused the crowd.
"Mebbe I haven't; but if you fellows know an aut'mobile from a hay rake, you might take a look in my big barn an' let me know what you see." "Say, Joe, you're jokin',--hev you really got one ?" "You can look for yourselves." "I saw one go through here 'bout six o'clock," interrupted a new-comer.

"Great Jehosephat, but 't went like a streak of greased lightnin'." "War that your'n, Joe ?" "Well--" "Naw," said the new-comer, scornfully.

"Joe ain't got no aut'mobile; there's the feller in there now who runs it," and the crowd turned my way with such interest that I turned to the little table and wrote the despatch, quite losing the connection of the subdued murmurs outside; but it was quite evident from the broken exclamations that my host was filling the populace up with information interesting inversely to its accuracy.
"Mile a minute--faster'n a train--Holy Moses! what's that, Joe?
broke axle--telegraphed--how many--four more--you don't say so ?-- what's his name?
I'll bet it's Vanderbilt.