“We are taking a cross-country drive for an outing,” he explained, after Angie had kissed Chip tenderly and greetings had been exchanged. “We have waited for you, Miss Runaway, to come and visit us,” he added, turning to Chip, “until we couldn’t wait any longer and so came to look for you. We have also some news that may interest you. Old Cy has been heard from at last. He spent a year looking for you. He has now gone into the woods, to my camp, where Ray located for the winter, and when spring comes, I can guess where they will head for.”
How welcome this news was to Chip, her face fully indicated; but neither Martin nor Angie realized how much or for what reason it interested this soft-voiced, gracious lady whom Chip called Aunt Abby. They knew Uncle Jud was Old Cy’s brother and that they had once been sailors from Bayport, but the long-ago romance of Aunt Abby’s life was unknown to them.
And now ensued a welcome to the callers such as only Uncle Jud and Aunt Mandy could offer.
“We sorter feel we robbed ye o’ Vera,” Uncle Jud explained, “though ’twa’n’t any intention on our part, an’ so ye must gin us some chance to make amends. We callate ’twa’n’t no fault of yourn, either, only one o’ them happenin’s that was luck for us.”
That evening was one long to be remembered by all who were present, for Chip’s history, as told by Martin and Angie, was the entertaining topic, and its humorous side was made the most of by Martin. Chip was in no wise annoyed by Martin’s fun-making, either. Instead, conscious of the good-will and affection of the friends who had rescued her from the wilderness, she rather enjoyed it and laughed heartily at Martin’s description of various incidents, especially her first appearance in their camp, and the language she used.
“I couldn’t help swearing,” she explained. “I never had heard much except ’cuss’ words. I think also now, as I recall my life at Tim’s Place, I would never have dared that desperate mode of escape had I not been hardened by such a life. I wish I could see Old Tomah once more,” she added musingly, “and I’d like to send him some gift. He was the best-hearted Indian I ever saw or heard of, and his queer teachings about spites and how they rewarded us for good deeds and punished us for evil ones was no harm, for it set me thinking. The one thought that encouraged me most during those awful days and nights alone in the woods was the belief that among the spites which I was sure followed me was my mother’s soul. I’ve never changed in my belief, either, and shall always feel that she guided me to your camp.”
Uncle Jud also obtained his share of fun at Chip’s expense, describing his finding of her with humorous additions.
“She was all beat out that night I found her on top o’ Bangall Hill, ’n’ yet when I asked her if she’d run away from some poor farm, she was ready to claw my eyes out, an’ dunno’s I blame her. I was innocent, too, fer I really s’posed she had.”
Martin’s visit at this hospitable home was not allowed to terminate for a week, for visitors seldom came here, and Uncle Jud, as big a boy as his brother when the chance came, planned all sorts of trips and outings to entertain them, and quite characteristic affairs they were, too.
One day they drove to a wood-bordered pond far up the valley, fished a few hours for pickerel and perch, and had a fish fry and picnic dinner.