The road to the right, so we all agreed, clearly led back again to the village.
"The old man said distinctly," so Harris reminded us, "keep straight on round the hill." "Which hill ?" George asked, pertinently.
We were confronted by half a dozen, some of them big, some of them little.
"He told us," continued Harris, "that we should come to a wood." "I see no reason to doubt him," commented George, "whichever road we take." As a matter of fact, a dense wood covered every hill.
"And he said," murmured Harris, "that we should reach the top in about an hour and a half." "There it is," said George, "that I begin to disbelieve him." "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.