“I think I’d best go back to Greenvale,” he said, “an’ begin a sarch for that gal. I ain’t got nobody in the world that needs me so much, or I them. I’m a sorter outcast myself, ez you folks know. That little gal hez crept into my heart so, I can’t take no more comfort here. Amzi don’t need me so much as I need her, ’n’ I’ve made up my mind I’ll start trampin’ till I find her. I’ve a notion, too, she’ll head for the wilderness ag’in, ’n’ I’m most sartin she’ll fetch up whar her mother was buried. I watched that gal middlin’ clus all last summer. She’s true blue ’n’ good grit. She won’t do no fool thing, like makin’ ’way with herself, ’n’ I’ll find her somewhar arnin’ her own livin’ if I live long ’nuff. From the note she left, I know that was in her mind.”
Martin realized that there was no use in trying to change Old Cy’s intent–in fact, had no heart to do so, for he too felt much the same toward Chip.
“I’ll give you all the funds you need, old friend,” he made answer, “and wish you Godspeed on your mission. I’ll do more than that even. I’ll pay some one to watch at Grindstone for the next year, so if Chip reaches there, we can learn it.”
That night he held a consultation with his wife.
“I suspect we are somewhat to blame for this unfortunate happening,” he said to her, “or, at least, some thoughtless admissions you may have made led up to it. It’s a matter we are responsible for, or I feel so, anyway. I think as Old Cy does, that this girl must be found if money can do it, and I propose that we break camp and return to Greenvale. If Amzi can’t be coaxed to go along, I must leave Levi with him. No power on earth can keep Old Cy here any longer.”
But the old hermit had changed somewhat since that night he broke away and returned to this camp, and when the alternative of remaining here alone, or going out with them all, was presented, he soon yielded.
“If Cyrus is goin’, I’ll have to,” he said. “I’d be lonesome without him.” And to this assertion he adhered.
Ray, however, was the most dejected and unhappy one now here, though fortunately Old Cy was the only one who understood why, and he kept silent.
Old Cy’s defection had influenced all alike, and wood life was no longer attractive. It was a pity, in a way, for no more charming spot than this sequestered lake could be found. The trout leaping or breaking its glassy surface night and morning seemed to almost urge an angler; not an hour in all the day but two to a dozen deer might be seen along its shore, and blueberries were ripening over in the “blow down.” Amzi’s garden, now doubled in size, was well along, and it seemed a sin to leave so many attractions.
But Martin had lost heart for these allurements. The thought of poor, homeless Chip begging her way somewhere, spoiled it all. Conscious that her own neglect might have invited this calamity, Angie was almost heart-broken, and it was a saddened party that closed and barred the new cabin and left this rippled lake one morning.