“How stupid!” said Bevis. “Of course it was in my pocket all the time.”
He took it out, and as he lifted the brazen lid the white card swung to and fro with the vibration of his hand.
“Rest your hand against a pole,” said Mark. This support steadied Bevis’s hand, and the card gently came to a standstill. The north, with the three feathers, pointed straight at him.
“Now, which way was the sea?” said Mark, trying to think of the direction in which they had last seen it. “It was that side,” he said, holding out his right hand; he faced Bevis.
“Yes, it was,” said Bevis. “It was on the right hand, now that would be east,” (to Mark), “so if we go east we must be right.”
He started with the compass in his hand, keeping his eye on it, but then he could not see the stoles or bushes, and walked against them, and the card swung so he could not make a course.
“What a bother it is,” he said, stopping, “the card won’t keep still. Let me see!” He thought a minute, and as he paused the three feathers settled again. “There’s an oak,” he said. “The oak is just east. Come on.” He went to the oak, and then stopped again.
“I see,” said Mark, watching the card till it stopped. “The elder bush is east now.”
They went to the elder bush and waited: there was a great thistle east next, and afterwards a bough which had fallen. Thus they worked a bee-line, very slow but almost quite true. The ash-poles rattled now as the breeze freshened and knocked them together.
“What a lot of leaves,” said Bevis presently; “I never saw such a lot.”