“Where?” they all demanded at once.
“Right ahead of us. Oh, we’re all right now!”
But it was not such a haven of refuge as they had supposed. For the ram-shackle old building was inhabited by an uncouth German, his wife and several very much soiled children. He could speak a little English—hardly enough to make himself understood, and the German essayed by the Camp Fire Girls was evidently beyond his comprehension, for he shook his head in a puzzled fashion.
“Where were they?”
He knew not.
“Which was the road to Green Lake?”
He knew not.
“Was there any one who did?”
The same result.
“Was there any one who could put them on the right road?”