Page:Henry Ford's Own Story.djvu/102

 bent every thought and energy to placing the steering gear.

At midnight he was still working. At 1 o'clock he had the front wheels blocked up and was testing the steering lever. It needed some changes. At 2 o'clock they were finished. He started the engine again and it missed fire. Something was wrong with the spark.

At 3 o'clock, grimy, hollow-cheeked, absorbed, he was hard at work when he felt a hand on his arm and heard his wife say, "Henry!"

"My dear, what's the matter? I'm coming in right away. Why, you're all wet!" he exclaimed, seeing her dripping shawl.

"It's raining hard. Didn't you know it?" she said.

"You shouldn't have come out; I thought you were going right to bed," he answered.

"Well, I couldn't sleep very well. I got to thinking Henry, we mustn't go back to the farm. It was just a notion of mine. I guess I was tired, or something. I've changed my mind. We'd better stay right here till you get the machine finished."

He laughed.

"Well, little woman, I guess that won't be so very long. It's finished right now," he said. "You wait a minute and you'll see me running it."

She stood and watched, more excited than he, while he started the engine again, nailed a couple of old boards together for a seat and opened wide