Carl brought the failed assembly in two days later, and Earl matched it. The housing castings were identical. The mounting flange was identical. The port locations were identical. The casting numbers on the outside of the two blocks were the same. Earl took one of the rebuilt assemblies off the shelf, a unit pulled from Number Fifty-Two, laid it beside Carl's old one, and could find no difference between them that a man could see from the outside.
He checked the rebuilt unit on the test stand again, ran it to working pressure, checked for leaks and confirmed the relief setting. It passed, just as it had passed when he first rebuilt it.
Carl took it home and bolted it in himself, because he was in a hurry and because he was a capable mechanic in his own right. It worked. He called Earl that evening and said so, briefly, and Earl wrote *Jensen — #52 assy — installed* in the notebook and did not think about it again.
For eleven days.
---
The call came on a Saturday afternoon in the middle of planting.
Earl was in the shed with Ray when the phone rang, and when Ray answered it, he did not have to put it on speaker. He held it away from his ear and Earl could hear Carl Jensen clearly from across the shed.
"It's gone. Your valve. It's gone. I've been running eleven hours a day for six days and this morning it started losing pressure. By noon I couldn't lift the planter. I've got a hundred and forty acres still to go and the rain's coming Tuesday and I have got a tractor sitting in the middle of a field that won't lift a damn thing."
Earl took the phone.
"Carl. This is Earl."
"I know who it is."
"Bring it back," Earl said. "Bring me the assembly. And I'll bring you something to finish planting with."
There was a pause on the line.
"What?"
"I've got a tractor here, rebuilt and tested. I'll haul it down this afternoon. Use it until yours is fixed. No charge."
Another pause, longer.