She held the telegram, flipping her fingers against one end of it as she
debated. She remembered how the wide world had flowed toward her over
the hood of the Gomez all day. She wrote in answer: "Awful perils of road, two punctures, split infinitive, eggs at
lunch questionable, but struggle on."
Before she sent it she held council with her father. She sat on the foot
of his bed and tried to sound dutiful. "I don't want to do anything
that's bad for you, daddy. But isn't it taking your mind away from
business?"
"Ye-es, I think it is. Anyway, we'll try it a few days more."
"I fancy we can stand up under the strain and perils. I think we can
persuade some of these big farmers to come to the rescue if we encounter
any walruses or crocodiles among the wheat. And I have a feeling that if
we ever get stuck, our friend of the Teal bug will help us."
"Probably never see him again. He'll skip on ahead of us."
"Of course. We haven't laid an eye on him, along the road. He must have
gotten into Fargo long before we did. Now tomorrow I think----"