Once more the fugitives managed to go on for some little distance, with nothing out of the common run happening. Bumpus was thinking that the engine had commenced to act quite decently, but of course he did not dare mention this fact aloud. The recollection of what had followed when Giraffe boasted was still fresh in his memory.
“There’s a fork in the road ahead of us, Thad,” announced the keen-eyed Giraffe. “Do we take the right or the left branch?”
“I’m a little dubious about that,” said the pilot at the wheel.
“Why, what does your chart say?” asked Giraffe.
“As near as I can make out,” he was told, “the roads come together again some ways further on, perhaps as much as seven miles or so. The one that leads toward the left seems to be shorter than the other by considerable.”
“Then why should you hesitate about starting along that one?” asked Allan.
“Only because it heads so far toward the southwest, you see,” explained Thad.
“Oh! I’m on now,” exclaimed the tall scout. “You’re a bit worried for fear we’ll run smack into some of the fighting that seems to have been going on over that way—is that it, Thad?”
“Well, yes, Giraffe, but on the whole I think I’ll make the try. If we see things getting thick ahead of us we can turn around and come back again at the worst. And if we do manage to get along without being held up we’ll save quite some time.”
That was how they came to be moving along that road, and heading in a direction that opened up new hazards.