Better still, they came upon what seemed to be a road running through the country cemetery that, if followed, would undoubtedly take them to the one leading up to the chateau perched on the ridge above.
"Must be some sort of old French village around this neighborhood," observed Jack. "Many of these stones are partly covered with moss, as if they were terribly old. But then this may be a private burial place for the family that once lived for years and years in that big castle."
"That's nothing to us just now," Tom reminded him. "What we're interested in is whether this road will lead us up there, and if we can make sure of finding our plane again when we come back. Remember that everything will be just the opposite; what's right to us now will be on the left then."
"Oh, I learned that dodge long ago when I took up the study of woodcraft," Jack announced confidently. "Can't fool me on a little wrinkle like that, if I know it."
"Come along, and we'll make a start," Tom urged.
"Feels to me just as if we were two of those old-time crusaders, starting out to rescue a Christian maiden from the Saracens. Only in our case the girl is a mite of six, with a twin sister just breaking her baby heart over her loss."
