, and drove off again, followed by Clyde,
Stockwell, and Rodman.

"How do you know this isn't the right way?" inquired Tinckner.

"I'll tell you," replied the cashier, jumping out of the cariole, and
taking the Hand-book from his pocket.

The others soon joined him, and exhibiting the map, he explained his
position to his friends.

"Here's another road to Kongsberg," said Summers, indicating its
direction on the map. "They may be going that way."

"It is possible," added Burchmore, puzzled by this discovery. "It is
farther that way than by Lysthus."

"Not much; there's hardly any difference. I'm in favor of following
Sanford."

So were nearly all of them, and the cashier finally yielded. The
tourists resumed their seats, and soon overtook the coxswain, who
had evidently expected to be followed. Burchmore was annoyed by the
discovery he had made, but as the pony attached to the cariole slowly
climbed the hills, he studied the map and the text of the book he had
bought.

"We can't go much farther on this tack," said he, as he folded up his
map.

"What's to prevent us from keeping on to the north pole?" asked
Churchill.

"It is almost night, in the first place, and in the second, we shall
come to a lake in the course of an hour, where we must take boats."

"I don't believe anything is wrong about the matter."

"Don't you? Then what are we doing up here?"

"Never mind; we shall soon come to that other road, and then we shall
know whether Sanford means to go to Kongsberg or not."

"He has stopped ahead of us. He is waiting for us to come up," added
Burchmore.

"Yes; and there is the road which turns off to the right."

"Why don't he go ahead?"

Sanford and those who had arrived with him left the carioles, and
gathered at the junction of the two roads. Burchmore followed their
example.

"What's the matter? What are you stopping here for?" demanded Clyde
Blacklock, rather imperiously.

"Some of the fellows think we are going to play them a trick," said
Sanford, with his sweet and innocent smile.

"Who thinks so?" asked Clyde.

"Burchmore."

"Which is Burchmore?"

"That's my name," replied the cashier, rather indifferently.

"Are you the fellow that wants to break up the party?" blustered
Clyde.

"No, I'm not. I'm the fellow that wants to go to Christiania. We ought
to have kept to the right at the last station."

"I insist on going this way."

"I don't object; you can go whichever way you