Themanlayflatonhisstomachonthefloor，hisneckpressedback，wrigglingundertheengineandpokingwithhisfinger。Conniethoughtwhatapatheticsortofthingamanwas，feebleandsmall-looking，whenhewaslyingonhisbellyonthebigearth。
`SeemsallrightasfarasIcansee，’camehismuffledvoice。
`Idon’tsupposeyoucandoanything，’saidClifford。
`SeemsasifIcan’t!’Andhescrambledupandsatonhisheels，collierfashion。`There’scertainlynothingobviouslybroken。’
Cliffordstartedhisengine，thenputheringear。Shewouldnotmove。