“As near as I can make out, this is where we are right now, Thad,” he mentioned, making a pencil mark on the paper. “I know it from many reasons, and one of them is that fine old Dutch windmill we just passed on the knoll. It’s marked here, you can see, as if it had some historic connections.”
“You’re right about that part of it, Allan,” said the scout leader after taking a quick glance at the chart, for his attention was needed at the wheel, since the progress of the car was inclined to be erratic; in fact, as Giraffe had several times declared, “she did not mind her helm very well, which made their course a zigzag one.”
“Well, how much further do we have to go before we get to the Dutch line?” Bumpus asked, with more or less concern; for every two minutes he had kept twisting around, almost putting his neck out of joint, with the idea of making sure that they were not being pursued.
“I’m figuring what course we’ll have to take in order to avoid several German towns that are marked here,” returned Allan.
“That’s right, we have no use for even the cleanest towns agoing just now,” ventured Giraffe, “though I’m getting pretty hungry, to tell you the truth.”
“That’s cruel of you, mentioning it,” spluttered Bumpus, “when I’ve been fighting all the while to forget that I’ve got an awful aching void inside of me that’s wanting to be filled the worst kind. But how far do we have to go, Allan?”
“Not more than five miles more,” came the answer.
“That sounds encouraging, I must say,” remarked Thad; “if the cranky old thing holds out another half hour we might be on the border; and once across, our troubles will be done with for awhile anyhow.”
“Then she must be making all of ten miles an hour, Thad!” exclaimed Giraffe, pretending to be greatly excited; “why, I can feel my hair beginning to stand up with the nervous strain! It’s the nearest approach to flying I ever expected to meet up with. If we have an accident when going like the wind they’ll have to collect us in baskets. I’m going to hold on to Bumpus here, let me tell you!”
“What for?” demanded the fat scout, suspiciously.