“You are right,” said Björn. “But are we to walk home?”
It was very hot and the sun burned. It was a good twelve miles to the fishing village, and the road was for the most part flat, sandy, and open.
“Do you want to ride?” asked Anders. “I am afraid the most of the wagons have gone home, unless you want to hire one.”
Björn stood a moment without answering. It was perhaps not such a bad idea to postpone the home-coming and the explanations for a little.
“I propose we go to the capital.”
“Do you treat?” asked Anders, cautiously.
“Certainly,” answered Björn, and slapped his pocket where the money lay. They went through the town to the railway station, where a train was just about to start. The two were like two big children. They had been to the capital already, but neither of them had ever ridden on the railroad.
Someone showed them the way to the ticket office. Björn planted himself in front of the opening, with his pocketbook in his hands.
“Can I get a cabin for two men to the capital?” he asked, in a tone which he took for a whisper, but which could be heard throughout the hall. “Return?” was asked.
“What’s that he says?” asked Björn of his comrade.