hundred and fifty miles west-sou'-west for Tours, on the Loire river. I've figured it out on the map, and even that is enough to make a man feel sore in his feet. But what made Bosistow glad at the time, and vicious after, was that on his way he fell in with a draft of prisoners, and, among them, with Abe Cummins, who, so to say, had reached the same place by walking a tenth part of the distance. And, what's more, though a man couldn't very well get sleek in Jivvy, Abe had kept his bones filled out somehow, and knew enough navigation by this time to set a course to the Channel Fleet. 'Deed, that's what he began talking about on the first day's journey he and Billy trudged together after their meeting. And he began it after a spell of silence by asking, quiet like, "Have you been happening to think much about Selina Johns this last year or two?"
"Most every day," answered Billy.
"So have I," said Abe, and seemed to be pondering to himself. "She'll be a woman growed by this time," he went on.
"Turnin' twenty-seven," Billy agreed.
"That's of it," said Abe. "I've been thinking about her, constant."
"Well, look'ee here," spoke up Billy, "our little agreement holds, don't it?—that is, if we ever get out of this here mess, and Selina hasn't gone and taken a husband. Play fair, leave it to the maid, and let the best man win; that's what we shook hands
