ugh at their expense. A merry little gnome he was, the very spirit of
the Black Forest.

Their last sight of him marked almost the end of their wanderings. For
another day's tramping through the solemn depths brought them to a
little community, a tiny forest village, made up of just such cottages
and people, and they made a detour to avoid it, only to run plunk into
another miniature industrial centre which they also "side-stepped,"
though indeed the iron fist seemed not to be very tightly closed upon
these primitive knights of the jack-knife and chisel; and they saw no
dreaded sign of authority.

Still they did not wish to be reckless and when they sought food and
shelter it was at a sequestered cottage several miles from the nearest
habitation. Here Tom showed his button but the old man (they saw no
young men) seemed not to know what it meant, although he gave them food,
apparently believing them to be German soldiers.

Tom believed that they must have journeyed fifty or sixty miles
southward, verging away from the river so as to keep within the depths
of the forest, and he realized that the time had come for them to
consider just what course they were going to pursue.

"If we're going to try to find her," he said rather hesitatingly, "we
ought to hit it west so's we can take a pike across the river. But if we
keep straight south we'll strike the river after it bends, if that old
weaver knew what he was talking about, and when we cross it we'll be in
Switzerland. We'll do whatever you say. Going straight south would be
easier and safer," he added, with his usual blunt honesty; "and if we
cross back into Alsace we'll have to go past houses and people and we'll
be taking chances.--I admit it's like things in a book--I mean rescuing
girls," he said, with his characteristic awkward frankness, "and maybe
some people would say it was crazy, kind of----" What he meant was
_romantic_, but he didn't exactly know how to say that. "As long as
we've been lucky so far maybe we ought to get across the frontier and
over to France as quick as we can. I s'pose that's where we
belong--most of all----"

"Is that what you think?" said Archer.

"I ain't sayin' what I think, but----"

"Well, then, I'll say what _I_ think," retorted Archer. "You're always
telling about thoughts you've had. I don't claim I'm as good as you arre
at having thoughts, but if therre's a soldierr wounded they send two or
three soldierrs to carry the stretc