“Yes, sir, I do.”
“What’s that you’ve got?”
“That’s a map I want to show you,” answered Harry, unrolling it and spreading it on his knee; “I guess maybe Gordon has an idea that we’re going into a country like the wilds of Africa, but it isn’t quite as bad as that. Of course, there are wild tracts, but there are roads and villages, and then there’s the lake to keep us from going too far astray. I’m pretty sure we’ll find camp near the lake. Now, my idea is to follow this ridge—”
“What ridge?”
“Why, right along here,” said Harry, pointing with his pencil.
“You call that a ridge?”
“Yes, sir; those are all mountains, and the high land is more or less continuous. It’ll give us a bird’s-eye view.”
“Now, let me tell you something, my boy. It’s easy to climb a mountain on a map. But a few curlicue lines aren’t a mountain—no sirree—any more than a bill of fare is a dinner. Now, take my advice and do the comfortable, easy way. Stay right here till you get word from Dr. Brent.”
“It would be good sport,” protested Harry.
“I know, but suppose you shouldn’t find them?”