I heard a clock striking as we swung to the left in the town….
Eight o'clock.
Two more hours and a quarter, and a hundred and nineteen miles to go.
I tried not to lose heart….
We had passed Villeneuve-de-Marsan, and were nearing, I knew, cross-roads, when Piers forestalled my inquiry and spoke in my ear.
"Which shall you do? Go straight? Or take the forest road?"
"I don't know the Roquefort way, except that there's pavement there.
What's it like?"
"It's pretty bad," said Piers. "But you'll save about fifteen miles."
"How much pavement is there? Five or six miles?"
"Thirty about," said Piers.