A few days later he made a proposal that astonished Martin.
“I’ve been here now ’bout two years,” he said, “an’ I’m gittin’ sorter oneasy. I callate ye kin spare me a couple o’ weeks.”
No intimation of his real errand escaped him, and so adroitly had he laid his plans and timed his movements, that when his canoe was packed and he bade them good-bye, no one suspected how valuable a cargo it carried.
But Old Cy was more than “sorter oneasy,” for the only spot where he dared close his eyes in sleep during that three days’ journey out of the wilderness was in his canoe, with his head pillowed on that precious gold.
CHAPTER XXX
“A miser was created to prove how little real comfort kin be got out o’ money.”–Old Cy Walker.
When Old Cy joined the little party at the lake again, he seemed to have aged years. His sunny smile was gone. He looked weary, worn, and disconsolate.
“Chip’s run away from Greenvale,” he said simply, “an’ nobody can find hide nor hair on her. They’ve follered the roads for miles in every direction. Nobody can be found that’s seen anybody like her ’n’ they’ve even dragged the mill-pond. She left a note chargin’ it to that durn fool, Hannah, and things she said, which I guess was true. I’d like to duck her in the hoss-pond!”
Such news was like a bombshell in the camp, or if not, what soon followed was, for after a few days Old Cy made another announcement which upset the entire party.