The next morning the carioles were ready, and the tourists renewed their journey, and went back on the road by which they had come, till they came to that which led to Kongsberg. The “forbud” had been duly forwarded, and there were no delays or interruptions.
“Where’s the lake?” asked Sanford, when they had been riding about two hours.
“O, the road don’t go near the lake, till we get to the place where we cross,” replied Ole, who was carrying out in good faith the arrangement he had made with the cashier.
“How shall we cross the lake?”
“In a steamer which goes at seven o’clock in the morning.”
“All right,” replied the unsuspecting Sanford.
“We shall come to a large town at noon; and we musn’t stop a minute there, or those fellows will find where they are. We can tell them it is Kongsberg, you know,” added the wily waif.
“Just so,” laughed Sanford; “we’ll tell them it is Kongsberg, and they won’t know the difference.”
“I don’t think they will.”
At noon, agreeably to the promise of Ole, the travellers arrived at the large town, where they were obliged to change horses.