'Which way does it lie?'
Chippy considered the sun, and thought over the directions Mr. Elliott had given the scouts time and again.
'Right away north,' he answered.
'Very well, then,' said Dick. 'We're a mile to the south. And a mile on the heath is an inch on the map. Now, my thumb-nail is just half an inch—I've measured it; so twice my thumb-nail to the south of Woody Knap brings us to the spot where we are.'
'So it does,' cried Chippy, with enthusiasm. 'It's as plain as plain now ye put it that way. An' that's a proper dodge, to measure it off wi' yer thumb-nail.'
'Oh, uncle gave me that tip,' laughed Dick. 'It's very useful for measuring short distances on the map. When you want a rule, you generally find you've left it at home, but your thumb-nail is always on the spot.'
'Yus,' smiled Chippy; 'ye mostly bring it wi' yer. Now,' he went on, 'wot's the distance to the Fort?'
'To the Horseshoe?' said Dick, and began to measure. 'Barely a couple of miles,' he said. 'We're quite close. Isn't it lonely country all round it? There isn't another building for miles on this side of the river.'
The broad tidal river curved down the western side of the map, widening rapidly as it neared the sea. Its western bank was dotted with hamlets and villages and scattered farms, with roads and lanes winding in every direction; from the eastern bank the heath stretched away with scarce a road or house to be seen for a great distance.
'We must get on, Chippy,' said Dick, starting to fold up the map, 'or we shall get clean out of touch with the other fellows. We've been studying this thing quite a while.'