"Well, what shall we do?" said Harris.
Now I happen to possess the bump of locality. It is not a virtue;
I make no boast of it. It is merely an animal instinct that I cannot help. That things occasionally get in my way--mountains, precipices, rivers, and such like obstructions--is no fault of mine. My instinct is correct enough; it is the earth that is wrong. I led them by the middle road. That the middle road had not character enough to continue for any quarter of a mile in the same direction; that after three miles up and down hill it ended abruptly in a wasps' nest, was not a thing that should have been laid to my door. If the middle road had gone in the direction it ought to have done, it would have taken us to where we wanted to go, of that I am convinced.
Even as it was, I would have continued to use this gift of mine to discover a fresh way had a proper spirit been displayed towards me.
But I am not an angel--I admit this frankly,--and I decline to exert myself for the ungrateful and the ribald. Besides, I doubt if George and Harris would have followed me further in any event.
Therefore it was that I washed my hands of the whole affair, and that Harris entered upon the vacancy.
"Well," said Harris. "I suppose you are satisfied with what you have done?"
"I am quite satisfied," I replied from the heap of stones where I was sitting. "So far, I have brought you with safety. I would continue to lead you further, but no artist can work without encouragement. You appear dissatisfied with me because you do not know where you are. For all you know, you may be just where you want to be. But I say nothing as to that; I expect no thanks. Go your own way; I have done with you both."
I spoke, perhaps, with bitterness, but I could not help it. Not a word of kindness had I had all the weary way.
"Do not misunderstand us," said Harris; "both George and myself feel that without your assistance we should never be where we now are. For that we give you every credit. But instinct is liable to error. What I propose to do is to substitute for it Science, which is exact. Now, where's the sun?"
"Don't you think," said George, "that if we made our way back to the village, and hired a boy for a mark to guide us, it would save time in the end?"
"It would be wasting hours," said Harris, with decision. "You leave this to me. I have been reading about this thing, and it has interested me." He took out his watch, and began turning himself round and round.
"It's as ****** as A B C," he continued. "You point the short hand at the sun, then you bisect the segment between the short hand and the twelve, and thus you get the north."
He worried up and down for a while, then he fixed it.
"Now I've got it," he said; "that's the north, where that wasps' nest is. Now give me the map."
We handed it to him, and seating himself facing the wasps, he examined it.
"Todtmoos from here," he said, "is south by south-west."
"How do you mean, from here?" asked George.
"Why, from here, where we are," returned Harris.
"But where are we?" said George.
This worried Harris for a time, but at length he cheered up.
"It doesn't matter where we are," he said. "Wherever we are, Todtmoos is south by south-west. Come on, we are only wasting time."
"I don't quite see how you make it out," said George, as he rose and shouldered his knapsack; "but I suppose it doesn't matter. We are out for our health, and it's all pretty!"
"We shall be all right," said Harris, with cheery confidence. "We shall be in at Todtmoos before ten, don't you worry. And at Todtmoos we will have something to eat."
He said that he, himself, fancied a beefsteak, followed by an omelette. George said that, personally, he intended to keep his mind off the subject until he saw Todtmoos.
We walked for half an hour, then emerging upon an opening, we saw below us, about two miles away, the village through which we had passed that morning. It had a quaint church with an outside staircase, a somewhat unusual arrangement.
The sight of it made me sad. We had been walking hard for three hours and a half, and had accomplished, apparently, about four miles. But Harris was delighted.
"Now, at last," said Harris, "we know where we are."
"I thought you said it didn't matter," George reminded him.
"No more it does, practically," replied Harris, "but it is just as well to be certain. Now I feel more confidence in myself."
"I'm not so sure about that being an advantage," muttered George.
But I do not think Harris heard him.
"We are now," continued Harris, "east of the sun, and Todtmoos is south-west of where we are. So that if--"
He broke off. "By-the-by," he said, "do you remember whether I said the bisecting line of that segment pointed to the north or to the south?"
"You said it pointed to the north," replied George.
"Are you positive?" persisted Harris.
"Positive," answered George "but don't let that influence your calculations. In all probability you were wrong."
Harris thought for a while; then his brow cleared.
"That's all right," he said; "of course, it's the north. It must be the north. How could it be the south? Now we must make for the west. Come on."
"I am quite willing to make for the west," said George; "any point of the compass is the same to me. I only wish to remark that, at the present moment, we are going dead east."
"No we are not," returned Harris; "we are going west."
"We are going east, I tell you," said George.
"I wish you wouldn't keep saying that," said Harris, "you confuse me."
"I don't mind if I do," returned George; "I would rather do that than go wrong. I tell you we are going dead east."
"What nonsense!" retorted Harris; "there's the sun."
"I can see the sun," answered George, "quite distinctly. It may be where it ought to be, according to you and Science, or it may not.
All I know is, that when we were down in the village, that particular hill with that particular lump of rock upon it was due north of us. At the present moment we are facing due east."
"You are quite right," said Harris; "I forgot for the moment that we had turned round."