“Quit takin’ on so, girlie,” he said.
Mr. Martin Frisbie,
“One who Knows.”
But Chip’s secret was a most transparent one, for when this missive reached Martin three days later, he recognized its angular penmanship and similarity to the note Aunt Comfort still treasured, and knew that Chip wrote it.
It startled him somewhat, however, for Old Cy’s youthful history was unknown to him, and suspecting that some mystery lay beneath this information, he told no one, but started for Riggsville at once.
The tide of emotion that had upset the even tenor of Uncle Jud’s home life slowly ebbed away, and a keen sense of expectancy took its place.
Chip, after giving him her letter, explained that Old Cy was most likely in the wilderness, and that the letter might not reach him for weeks.
And then one day a broad-shouldered, rather commanding, and somewhat citified man drove up to the home of Uncle Jud.
“Does Mr. Judson Walker live here?” he inquired of Aunt Mandy, who met him at the door.