GarGar, le comte des Deux Chats, sat on his big white stallion. He’s paused because he and his men weren’t quite sure where they were; that is, where they were located. While his Aide de Camp wrestled with a map that seemed to have a thousand folds, GarGar decided to take a bit of refreshment. Reaching into the inner breast pocket of his jacket, le comte extracted a silver flask. Casually taking a long draught, he also trained his eyes on the Aide de Camp.
“You there!” Said GarGar. “How’s it going with that map? Here! Let me take a look at it!” With that, GarGar tucked his flask back into his pocket and simultaneously reached for the map. His Aide, a young man of about twenty years, looked at him as if he had two heads. “My lord!” Was all the poor fellow could think to say.
“Let’s see here,” said GarGar, tucking his chin into his chest, “The trail we are on started going East, then it went North-East. After a bit, it double-backed South-West, and then corrected itself due East, here!” He poked energetically at the map. “Here!”
The Aide shrugged his shoulders. His ability to read a map was hindered by a serious learning disability. In later years, he’d be labelled with words such as “poor impulse control,” “dyslexic,” and “Attention deficient syndrome.” Be that as it may, he did have the presence of mind to pull a compass from his trouser pocket and shove it in the direction of his leader.
“Yes!” Cried GarGar. “Maybe we can tell by what direction we are going now, it will tell us where we are on the map!”