“But where are we?” said George.
This worried Harris for a time, but at length he cheered up.
“It doesn’t matter where we are,” he said. “Wherever we are, Todtmoos is south by south-west. Come on, we are only wasting time.”
“I don’t quite see how you make it out,” said George, as he rose and shouldered his knapsack; “but I suppose it doesn’t matter. We are out for our health, and it’s all pretty!”
“We shall be all right,” said Harris, with cheery confidence. “We shall be in at Todtmoos before ten, don’t you worry. And at Todtmoos we will have something to eat.”
He said that he, himself, fancied a beefsteak, followed by an omelette. George said that, personally, he intended to keep his mind off the subject until he saw Todtmoos.
We walked for half an hour, then emerging upon an opening, we saw below us, about two miles away, the village through which we had passed that morning. It had a quaint church with an outside staircase, a somewhat unusual arrangement.
The sight of it made me sad. We had been walking hard for three hours and a half, and had accomplished, apparently, about four miles. But Harris was delighted.
“Now, at last,” said Harris, “we know where we are.”
“I thought you said it didn’t matter,” George reminded him.