abode
as if they had been on the planet Mars. His nationality, too, gave them
the cheering assurance that they were approaching the frontier.

"Vagons--noh," he said; "no mohr." Then he pointed to his brimming
basket and said more which they could not understand.

Like most persons who live in the forest, he seemed neither surprised at
their coming nor curious. They gathered that in former days wagons had
wound through these forest ways gathering the handiwork of the people,
but that they came no more. To Tom it seemed a pathetic thing that
Kaiser Bill should reach out his bloody hand and blight the peaceful
occupation of this quaint little old man of the forest. Perhaps he would
die, far away there in his tree-embowered cottage, before the wagons
ever came again, and the overflowing basket would rot away and the
windmills blow themselves to pieces....

CHAPTER XXVI

MAGIC

Leaving the home of the Swiss toymaker, who had shared his simple fare
with them, they started southward through the deep wilderness.

Tom's idea was to keep well within the forest, but within access to its
western edge, so that they might scan the country across the river at
intervals. They were so refreshed and encouraged as they tramped through
the deep, unpeopled wilderness which they knew must bring them to the
border, and so eager to bring their long journey to an end, that they
kept on for a while in the darkness until, to their great surprise, they
came upon a sheet of water the bank of which extended as far east and
west as they could see. Tom fancied he could just distinguish the dark
trees outlined on the opposite shore.

"Let's follow the shore a ways and see if we can get round it," he said.

But a tramp along the edge, first east, then west, brought no general
turn in the shore-line and they began to wonder if the Schwarzwald
could be bisected by some majestic river.

"I don't think a river so high up would be so wide," Tom said. "If I was
sure about that being the other shore over there, we could swim across."

"It would be betterr to get around if we could," said Archer, "because
if we'rre goin' wherre people arre we don't want our uniforms all
soaked."

"I'm not going to try to find _her_, if that's what you mean," said Tom;
"not unless you say so too, anyway."

"What d'you s'pose I dived forr that glass forr?" Archer retorted.
"We're goin' to find that girrl--or perish in the attempt--like old
What's-his-name.